I had the privilege of playing a little home concert for two very special ladies last night, Patty & Future Baby.  Apparently, some very smart scienticians believe that the fetus can hear and respond to music and sound. Since I am quite obviously not smart enough to dispute that, we’ve decided that I will play and sing for our little girl as often as possible.   According to Patty, she responds by kicking, punching and hiccuping, not unlike the crowd at Mayslack’s.  Indie & Bear wandered in during my rendition of “Little Trip To Heaven.”  Bear always gives me a strange look when I sing Tom Waits; he probably thinks I’m growling at him.

These little concerts are fast becoming my favorite part of this pregnancy, mostly because Patty & I can just sit, relax and show off our really dope chilling out skillz…something that will become much rarer in the near future.  Yep, pretty soon, the music I play will touch on much edgier topics ranging from the principles under which the wheels on the bus operate, to the various plumbing-related crises faced by the itsy-bitsy spider.  But in the meantime, I can entertain Patty and our girl with Chopin, Beethoven, as well as some Elton John, Jackson Browne, and Jerry Lee Lewis.

I have no idea what possessed me to perform the Diff’rent Strokes theme as Michael McDonald, however.  That’s just bad parenting.