This is my view for many hours a day: Baby head, nursing pillow, feet.

While Theo and I are spending this time together, I usually gently stroke his hair, cheek, feet, or whatever chubby naked flesh is exposed. While quiet time is all well and good, I’m guessing I should start thinking of things to say and sing to him.

I totally know that putting thought into what I babble to my baby is a bit crazy. Theo doesn’t care—or understand—what I’m saying. He doesn’t know that I can’t sing. But baby talk doesn’t come natural to me. I need to work on this. So far, here’s what I have come up with:

The Name Game (aka the banana fanna song) where I go through Theo, daddy, mommy, Rocky, Jake, and various relatives. There’s also my half-remembered rendition of Frère Jacques and Raspberry Beret.

I've got to break out the iPod and see what else we can come up with.