Journal Excerpt

The director of my surgical clerkship once told me, “repetition is the key to success.” For a living model, look no further than the two year-old in our house. There must be something about the way her brain wires itself to acquire information that stipulates that everything must be repeated at least twenty times in a straight row. Preferably thirty.

If she wants someone to hear what she’s saying, she keeps saying it. Over. And over. And over. Most of the time it’s not even a question, just a statement she wants me to verbally affirm. “We are eating grapes. We are eating grapes.” “Yes, we are eating grapes.” “Daddy’s eyes are moving! Daddy’s eyes are moving!” “Yes. Daddy’s eyes are indeed moving.” And so on. It’s worse with songs. There is this great Chinese song about fishes, and my poor mom sang it about thirty times in a row when she took her to the aquarium. I spend my entire day singing “The Wheels on the Bus” in all its glorious verses in endless repetition. My mom chimed in once with “the E on the bus says more! more! more!..”

It’s gotten so I just sing songs mindlessly, wherever we are. Today we were standing in line at Costco, waiting among the crowds out to stock up on hurricane supplies, and she was sitting in the cart which she thinks is a boat, which meant she wanted me to sing “Row, Row, Row Your Boat,” and I didn’t even realize I was singing it over and over until I noticed other people in line looking over.

I walked by her room after a nap yesterday and heard her singing to herself, rather loudly, in the crib. She could sing all these verses of all these songs, which was incredible since she rarely sings in front of me. So it all goes somewhere I guess.