And-a-1, and-a-2, and-a . . .

Welp, Max has surpassed the pivotal, milestone 7-week mark! Actually, 7 weeks is about as eventful as picking the crusties out of your eye in the morning. However, this means that Josh and I have had 7 weeks to get to know our little booboo, his likes and dislikes (i.e. likes: getting his diaper changed - which, when you think about it, is a pretty sweet deal; dislikes: tummy time for more than 6 minutes), and soaking up his smiley faces like a freakin' Swiffer.

As I said - and if I may speak for him - Max LOVES life up on the changing table. I don't know if it's the view from up there, that he's more eye level with the person who is cleaning his bumbum, or simply the feeling of the velour changing pad cover on his skin that floats his boat. But whatever it is, there is no shortage of boat-floating every time I perch him on that thing. Exhibit A:

Now, I have had a long history with music of all kinds: jazz, classical, pop, rock, blues, choral, country - you name it. I've been in choirs and seen musicals and have listened to the Hairspray soundtrack upwards of three thousand times. Hell, I remember the tunes from Sesame Street from when I was a kid. But wouldn't you know, that whenever my little booger looks up at me expectedly, as though he has just thumbed through my musical repertoire and is waiting for me to whip out my pitch pipe . . . I got nothin'. Every song I have ever known washes away from my brain. Oh my God . . .do I have performance anxiety in front of my infant? Or am I so in need of a tune at that moment, my brain backfires in a "fight or flight" response pattern? Whatever it is, I have found myself digging deep into the crevasse of my vocal collection to pull out something - anything - to entertain this kid as he abuses his Pampers with delight. The following is a list of what I  continuously come up with (this is not a joke):

- "My Favorite Things" from The Sound of Music, mimicking Julie Andrews' accent ('Girls in white dresses all tied up with string' . . . wait that's not right . . .)

- "So Fresh and So Clean (clean)" by Outkast

- "SUpermaaaan!" (that's all. Repeat x 20)

- "Clean Diapers" (Sung to the tune of "Green Acres" theme song)

- The Oscar Meyer weiner jingles (both "My bologne has a first name" and "Oh I wish I were an Oscar Meyer weinerrrr". He seems to especially respond to this one.)

All the songs in the world - the lullabyes, the serenades, hell, even slow jams of the 90's, and I continue to return to this exact lineup.

I suppose the point here is that my little munchkin couldn't care less what Mommy sings to him (Max, I'm speaking for you again). His eyes light up, legs kick out, and giggles ensue. So for all you new moms out there: as long as your voice is happy and calm, you can pretty much sing the material off an airline safety pamphlet, and all he'll know is that he is safe, loved, and has the best seat in the house.