Monday, 4 October 2010
As The Girl got ready for bed, she showed me the story she had written – some of the words were misspelled, and some of the letters were backwards, but I’m delighted that she’s writing on her own.
As I helped her trace letters, we sang the “lowercase n” song from early Sesame Street, one of those bizarre and delightful songs from that show’s early days. The Girl said it was a sad song at first.
But it gets better, I said – lowercase N finds someone to love, who loves her.
“It still sounds sad, even when we’re singing it,” she said.
That’s because we’re singing the notes between the notes, I said. They are called minor keys, and they sound sad to us for some reason.
“Why do they sound sad?” she asked.
No one knows, I said.
She gasped. “Not even scientists?”
Not that I know of, I said.
“Papa, I’m going to be a scientist someday, and I’m going to be the first girl in the world who knows why sad songs sound sad!” she said, beaming.
I will look forward to that, I said, and I will be so proud of you.
She abruptly became solemn as something occurred to her. “Oh ... Papa, you won’t be able to see me then, because when I’m a grownup you’ll be dead.”
I’m not forty yet, honey, I said, and you’ll be a grownup in a little more than ten years – you’ll probably still have me for a while yet.
“Oh,” she said, relieved. “Good, because there’s a lot of exploring we have left to do.”