There Was An Old Lady Who Lived By the Sea

This week, I've been blessed with a houseguest in the form of my cousin's 4 year old daughter, Lydia.  Now, it's been 14 years since I had a little girl in the house and we quickly discovered that our home was sadly lacking in things like sippy cups and age-appropriate toys.  We've also been re-aquatinted with the incredible energy and determination of the young, and have had the chance to watch The Tales of Devereaux over a dozen times (and counting).  Good times.

Still, it wasn't until about half-way through the week that I thought of singing to Lydia.  I love to sing, but my contralto voice seems awkwardly low and out of place in many settings.  Also, in recent years my teenagers have generally dreaded my singing and have discouraged it whenever possible.  But here I was, tooling down the highway with a little person perched on her booster in my back seat, and I happened to toss out my rendition of There was an old woman who swallowed a fly.  Go figure - Lydia loved it.

Since then, I have sang There was an old woman at least 6 times, always by request.  I've also belted out I enjoy being a girl, which I still think is fun (if cringingly dated and sexist), and On top of Spaghetti and You are my sunshine and Air Force Blue.  I even attempted Puff the magic dragon, although I can never remember all the words.  Lydia tells me that I have a good voice, and she's requesting my singing even more often than Devereaux the mouse.

I love this stuff.  Lydia, I'll sing for you anytime.