Brigade, Our Birdie was apparently standing on the little sofa in the little library in her room today, and attempted to take flight, and thus has a rather large goose egg in the making on her forehead, and a rug burn on her nose! One of her cheeks is all a-flame, historically a telltale sign of a tooth coming in, so by the time she'd supped and bathed, she was clearly over the day. She suffered one book, and then got down from the chair, looked at Julie, and bawled. Julie took this to mean Birdie wanted to turn in. So Birdie was taken to her nest. Julie even skipped the singing.
When Joe was Clara's age, Julie used to sing to him when she trimmed his nails as a distraction. The standard nail trimming tune is now ABCD (as Joe first called the ABCs--does his still. . .?), but the original nail trimming ditty was The Beatles' Eight Days A Week, for no other reason than it popped into Julie's head one day and seemed fitting.
Clara has a soothing song, too: Moon River. It's almost always broken out at bed time, when Clara is all discombobulated. But tonight, Clara was all, "Huckleberry friend, let's skip it," and drifted off, to sleep.
No comments:
Post a Comment