The singing son

I've always loved singing. Singing in the shower, in the car, while cooking, while cleaning. Wherever. I've also loved singing with my kids. It's a great way to change their mood or get them interested in something or calm them down. Often they respond to song more than anything else.

So, it should be no surprise that I've raised a clan of singers. The Von Trapps they are not, but they do like to belt out a tune. Last week I met up with a friend who said: "I saw you driving up Sheikh Zayed Road last week." "Oh, did I look flustered?" She replied: "No, it actually looked like you were all singing." And we probably were.

Darbs has not been much of a talker, he says a few odd words and he understands everything we say to him, but he hasn't launched into much chat. At his age, Goosey was talking in long sentences. The odd thing is that he sings. He sings all the time. Most of the words that he does know are sung. He lives his life like a musical. Actually as I write these very words, I remember writing the same thing about Lil once upon a time on this blog.

Darbs can sing Gangam Style and his new favourite is the Work Song from Les Miserables. All day we hear him singing "Look down! Look down!" He wakes from his nap singing "Look down! Look down!" He pushes my iPhone or iPad at me and sings "Look Down! Look Down!" wanting to hear it. As we drive around town it's: "Look Down! Look Down! la la la la la la"

I said to Skip the other night as we pondered how odd it was, that perhaps he'll become a singer and we'll say "Oh yes, he was singing before he could talk!"