Last night we had one of those transcendent family moments of absolute happiness; the ones that come somewhat rarely and unexpectedly and make you glad that you decided to have all those kids after all.
Eldest, Baby, and I were sitting at the dinner table, the remnants of the meal around us but in no hurry to clean them up. We were just hanging out; one of Eldest’s most endearing qualities is that he is very good at that. Eldest had his iPhone and, as a courtesy to his little brother, played the song “Hey Jude.” This is Baby’s favorite song, which is even harder to explain when you know that “Come On Eileen” is his second favorite.
“Hey Jude” also happens to be a song that both Eldest and I know every word to. And so we sang the whole thing, accompanied by the tinny iPhone, as Baby listened, bobbing his head along.
As we sang it the second time, I thought This may just be the perfect song. I have a perfect meal (roast whole chicken, potatoes, and green beans), a perfect book (The Remains of the Day), and, now, a perfect song.
Just one more little indication that Baby knows exactly what he’s doing.