Once again, another song I started singing to the boy, obviously a version of “How Much is that Doggie in the Window.” I didn’t realize until I was in the midst of singing it that it took on a sinister connotation when I substituted “baby” for “doggie,” and that’s how the last line came about. Now I sing this version as we look into the mirror just inside the door of his bedroom. The mirror has a tin frame that’s festoon with tin insects that the boy likes to grab at, and we try to prevent, in a struggle as eternal as time.
The mirror belonged to the boy’s Nana, my wife’s mom. Last week it was one year since she died suddenly, just four months before the birth of her first grandchild (who right now is sitting on my lap, attempting to help me type.) She would have been a wonderful, creative, kooky grandma. She is loved and missed.