at least Daddy can sing

Really, is there anything sweeter that seeing a new daddy holding his little baby son and singing to him? David was just singing "Row Row Row Your Boat" to William, and it got me thinking...

Early one morning during William's first week of life, David picked a crying William out of the Pack n Play and cuddled him to his chest. He brought him back over to the bed, where I was still lying, andI heard him croon, softly, "Swing Low, Sweet Chariot" to his little boy. It was so sweet that I began to cry. (Of course later, I thought about the song itself and said, "Hey, isn't that a funeral song?" but I digress. It was still an incredibly sweet and tender moment.) It made me feel like we really were a family, somehow.

Sometimes when William gets all riled up and red-faced, David will pull out the big gun: he sings "Rockefeller Skank" by Fat Boy Slim to Wiliam. It almost never fails. William nearly always stops crying and stares at his daddy in awe. The lyrics go something like "Right about now, the funk soul brother, check it out now, the funk soul brother," but of course, David's version is about "the funk soul William." It is, bar none, one of my favorite things to witness. The song is kind of catchy, too, so I usually find myself sort of humming and bobbing my head along. This is inevitably the sort of story that David and I will feel compelled to tell over and over again as William gets older and will eventually inspire him to get embarrassed by his silly old parents and beg us to never tell it again. I'll make a note to tell his future prom date. Y'all remind me if I forget.

On another note...A long time ago, I read something that claimed that all Southern women eventually turn into their mothers. Well, I don't know if that's absolutely true per se, I do find myself doing and saying things that eerily remind me of my own mama. In fact, I think I look more like my mother, the older I get. I have a picture on the fridge of me, Mom and Diane, and Mom and I have the exact same smile, and our eyes are squinted in the sunlight in the exact same way. I even find myself hearing her voice when I say "Bubble for Mommy" when I'm burping William, which is exactly what Mom used to say to me and to John when she would burp us.

But I think I may have to admit that I have accidentally discovered what may be the strongest evidence yet. This week, I bought a container of Wet Ones. Voluntarily. And not only that, I put them in my car. I am now Prepared for Emergencies. If that doesn't prove that I'm slowly turning into my mama, I don't know what does. Next thing you know, I'll try to convince somebody who says he's thirsty to chew some gum.