I didn’t think Isaiah cared much for my singing. The old standby, “Baby Beluga,” has proved ineffective. “You Are My Sunshine” gets a yawn at best. My lovey-dovey voices work great to get a smile, but the singing, not so much.
Tonight, as I got Isaac out of the tub and prepared it for Isaiah, who was squawking and barking at the lack of interaction, I started belting out some Sam and Dave. There was a coo from where he lay. I came over to him, still singing, and he grinned. He wiggled. I hit the chorus, and he squealed. I took his wiggly hands in mine and helped him keep rhythm. I gave him some Otis Redding. He grinned even bigger. Marvin Gaye. Percy Sledge. Big hits with the baby. Big. Hits.
Isaiah’s got soul.