Peeper has found a new passion.
We were out to dinner in Seattle (at Mama’s in Belltown) this week, and Peeper was teetering on the edge of Meltdown Canyon. She had been going to sleep much later and skipping naps altogether in our few days out of town, and I was beginning to think that a sit-down dinner in a restaurant was simply asking too much. But we’d already ordered, so we made a go of it.
That’s when the music started.
Two men with guitars went from table to table, playing classics in Spanish. Peeper was mesmerized. Thanks to a lot of tipping (and maybe a toddler’s enthusiasm), they graced us with several repeat performances. Even when they serenaded other sections of the restaurants, she insisted on watching them. “Wanna go find them!” she’d exclaim, squirming away from bites of burrito.
The next morning, while I tried to—gasp!—shower without her barging into the bathroom, Eric distracted her with a little more music. She’s not typically a big dancer, but this got her going.
I’m not that surprised. When we were in Mexico, she picked out a maraca and it’s one of her favorite toys. “Wanna sing that song!” she’ll yell in the car, and we jump into a rendition of this tune:
The music class she just finished was fine, but maybe I should look into courses that skew less toward the Wiggles and more toward The Gipsy Kings.
Viva la musica!