We have this ritual, she & I. The Queen loves her music. To play it. To sing it. To listen to it. For, oh…about 3 years now…we’ve had this ritual. She sits in the bathroom while I shower, and she makes requests.
Usually, it’s “Wheels on the Bus”, replete with all the verses. How does she let me know? She does the universal “shhhh” sign—pointer finger in front of lips.
When I get the signal, I commence.
The driver on the bus says move on back (throw arm backwards) move on back, move on back; (repeat and add “all through the town.)
The babies on the bus go wahh wahh wahh (rub hands at eyes as if crying) wahh wahh wahh, wahh wahh wahh (repeat and add “all through the town.)
The mommies on the bus go shh shh shh (finger in front of mouth as it makes “shh” sound) shh shh shh, shh shh shh (repeat and add “all through the town.)
Depending on how quickly I get through with my shower, this song has been sung upwards of 6 times.
I love that she and I sing together. Frequently. Loudly. She directs. I sing. And sometimes, she claps enthusiastically and bounces where she sits. We aren’t limited to bathroom singing, either. This can happen anywhere—kitchen, porch, back yard, the Piggly Wiggly. Her enjoyment has prompted me to sing sometimes for 45 minutes or more, until my throat is sore and I’m dreaming the lyrics that night.
So, it was no surprise to me the other day, as we were riding north on I-77 on a sunny afternoon, that she had this request. My iPod was playing our tunes, a mish-mash of Journey, Will Smith, The Marshall Tucker Band, Heavy D, Evelyn Champagne King, Betty Wright. The Queen usually sits in the backseat, tapping her foot and slapping her leg (depending on the genre, of course,) as we enjoy the melodies and head to our destination.
I began singing… “Just a small town girl….livin’ in a lonely worl…” when I hear an “Omma!” over Steve’s beautiful voice.
I turn the stereo down (she’s the only one I will turn Steve Perry’s singing off for.) “What is it?”
She signs “shh.”
So I begin………..
“The wheels on the bus go round & round, round & round, rou…” I’m interrupted again by her Highness. I turn & see her signing “shhh.” She wants me to jump to that verse. I oblige.
“The mommies on the bus go shh shh shh, shh shh shh, sh…” and finally, a louder, more insistent and drawn out, “Ommmmmmaaaaaaaa!” from the back seat.
“What is it?” I ask, confused by what she’s trying to tell me. She leans forward as far as her seatbelt allows, and taps that tiny pointer finger to her lips slowly, deliberately.
“Did you just want me to quit singing along with Steve???” I asked.
She flings herself back on the seat as if exhausted from trying to communicate with her slow-to-understand mother. “YES!” she nods. “SHH!” she signs. Then signs music.
Apparently, I annoyed her with my singing. I didn’t know whether to be hurt that she wanted me to shut up, or proud that she wanted to appreciate our Portugese crooner in the fullest capacity. Perhaps she just requires–as I do–that no one is to speak/sing/make any utterances when Steve sings.
I’m going to believe the latter. At least until she tells me otherwise.