I think that the love of music is genetic. It runs through my family as strongly as long pointy noses and brown hair.
I have grown up listening to my family play blue grass. The sounds of the mandolin are as natural to my ear as the sounds of my papaw's voice. No gathering is complete without a little strumming or some singing. My Papaw crooning "He Stopped Loving Her Today" has been the lullaby of my life.
Given all of this music that runs through my veins, I should not be surprised that I have produced a singer.
Princess H sings more often than she talks. She sings as she rides in the car. She sings as she plays. She sings softly to me as I hold her in my lap.
I have even learned that if she starts to lose it in the store, I can calm the storm by singing. She just can't resist singing along. I would much rather sing and shop than flee the store with a screaming banshee.
Tonight she stood in the middle of the living room with the Guitar Hero guitar and sang at the top of her lungs while her Dad attempted to Watch Star Wars ( for the 999,998th time). I was her audience of one. I couldn't take my eyes off of that pretty little girl (no longer a baby) that has brought new music into my life.
She just glows when she is performing. She makes up the words and the tune as she goes. She smiles and she strums and she SINGS.
Singing > Screaming any day of the week.