CJDaily's Blog

July 15, 2009

La la la la, this is the song, Annabelle’s song…

Filed under: Uncategorized — cjdaily @ 6:19 pm

Today I got a cd that I’d ordered for Annabelle from Amazon.  It’s a cd of her hero, Elmo, singing songs and addressing her personally… BY NAME.  Yes, Elmo says “Annabelle” at least 60 times during his perky little songs and monologues.  When I put it on and Belle heard his voice, her eyes got all big and happy, but she wasn’t overly blown away.  We already have the Sesame Street alphabet cd in the car and she frequently requests him from her chair of power in the backseat by hollering, “Elmo!” as we are backing out of the driveway. 

“Elmo!” she said happily and started rocking back and forth to the music.  And then he said her name for the first time, AND SHE FROZE.  For a minute I was afraid she’d had an aneurysm.  Head cocked to the side, hands frozen in mid-clap, she stood frozen to the spot like I’d just zapped her with a quick Petrificus Totalus. 

“Elmo?” she whispered.  His monologue hadn’t stopped and he was still chatting away, cheerfully refusing to use pronouns, and said her name again, inviting her to dance a tarantella or something.

“Elmo?  ELMOOOOOOOOOOO!” she shrieked, and snapped out of her stupor.  Arms flailing wildly, she threw herself at the glass sliding door, eyes wildly darting back and forth, like he might be hidden in the hydrangeas.  When a survey of the backyard didn’t reveal any hidden puppets, she flung herself around and launched in another direction. 

“ELMO!  ELMO!  ELMO!”  She was doing a perfect imitation of a wildly obsessed teen girl who has just walked smack into the Jonas Brothers and must now die of excitement.  She kind of realised he wasn’t in the vicinity but was still turning on the spot, head whipping from side to side, like maybe she was being Punk’d and he was going to bop into the room and whisk her off to Elmo’s World. 

“Yeah Belle, Elmo music!,” I encouraged her, and started shaking my groove thang to an Elmo-ized version of Splish Splash.  Bobby Darin might be rolling in his grave, but I was kinda psyched to have some new music that she was so obviously happy with.  We marched, we tap danced, we wiggled all over the room.  At one point I was afraid my neighbors might glance through the window and think I was experiencing a grand mal seizure.  But I proudly flung my hands into the air and kept dancing with my daughter, feeling foolish, but secretly pretty thrilled that we were having such a great time together.  I knew in ten minutes she’d be climbing the piano bench, or asking for some water, or eating the potted pants, but for now, we were dancing together, and even though she’ll never remember it, I didn’t want to miss a minute of it.


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