you found it

I don’t know where he picked it up. From us offhand, without deliberation low-beaming the oddball cultural transmission, or daycare, with the wildfire lingo of his tribe. You’re not my best friend, you’re not coming to my house, booty booty booty butt, pewwers and epic pouts. Or YouTube? A commercial? His own jaunty American heart?

Da dada da da – DAH DAH!

I teach him the words. Or maybe Arthur does? Or maybe he learned at the source. He chirps it emphatically, aware of its baloney, and also its just is-ness, it always was, will always be, “Shave and a haircut – two bits!”

He knocks it on the table. Then the wall. Then a door. He’s finding it everywhere, “Mom, it’s in the floor!” The countertop, the shelf, the window, the desk, the side of the couch, beat into his own chest, shave and a haircut is the absolute best! I beckon him over to the music corner.

The maracas, the clackers, the wooden spoons. The triangle, and shakers, he’s over the moon. It takes a few tries on the keyboard. For all I serenarrate our daily life, I’m not particularly musical. But I eventually successfully plunk it out. He grins wide. “You found it!”

Then we find it in the xylophone. The tongue drum. Kalimba. Every instrument we own instrumental to hone the magic of rhythm and flow.

This is it. My favorite part.

The old is new is eternal.

Now is forever.