Endless melodies

Frequently, in composing a blog devoted to music and fatherhood, I've been forced to seek out rough comparisons between the two subjects: to spin thin parallels, or faintly gesture toward common ground. Certain moments, however, bring full overlaps between the two, and in fact yesterday was characterized by a number of those moments. For some reason, Cleo was simply shot through with music on October 19.

As she often does, she spent some of the drive to school singing her ABCs; over the past month, her version of the song has gone from a plaintive recitation characterized by a droning rhythm that called to mind chants uttered in the slave galleys of Roman warships to a relatively bright and rapid celebration of the letters. Part of the reason, of course, is due to her growing sense of familiarity with the letters; indeed, we spent a few minutes after school noting familiar forms in the text of a historical marker at the Mount Royal train station. But surely the change is also due in part to her evolving realization that there are, in fact, different types of music. On the way home from school, she curtly announced, "I want to hear Motown and then jazz" - in other words, her two favorite CDs.

Happy to oblige, Cleo: and happy to see that Motown can still put you in a good mood. In fact, the good mood lasted the entire evening; after an episode of Blues Clues, we all decamped to the play room, where Cleo, after issuing pretend shots as a pretend doctor and after forming a human wicket through which we could roll balls, decided to issue musical instruments. L. got a washtub and a drumstick; I got the colorful xylophone; Cleo took the little tom tom for herself. And damn if we didn't put on a family concert for the next 10 minutes. Overlapping rhythms, simple melodies, and some big smiles: granted, we weren't as tight as the Jackson Five, but we did have some fun.

And then it was time for bed, which meant a new diaper, a round of pajamas for Cleo and her growing stable of stuffed monkeys, a reading of a Curious George story... and the nighttime CD that's played at bedtime for more than a year now. With the soft, swirling notes of a lullaby in the air, then, I said night, night, and closed her door - just a little bit, as per her instructions, at 8:31.