Benjamin climbed up on the piano bench. I was already sitting on the floor in the piano's shadow.
"What would you like me to play?" he asked. "A girl song, or a pee-pee song?"
I chuckled inside. How true it is, I've noticed lately, that boys are preoccupied with bodily functions. Benjamin is in the stage right now where saying "pee pee" or "poopy" is side-splittingly hilarious. Yes, the world does seem divided into world of girls and the world of pee pee (boys.)
"A girl song," I answered. He turned in all seriousness to the piano and began to sing as he played, mimicking how my own fingers brush the keys when I sit to play. His clear three year old voice rang out above the notes.
"This is a girl song....this is a girl song. This is a girl song, a girl song, a girl song."
"That was beautiful," I encouraged.
"That's only half the song," he countered, then continued. "This is a girl song, this is a girl song..."
A waited until the end and applauded. I quelled the desire to ask next for a pee pee song, firstly because I didn't want to chase the lovely moment of music away, and secondly because, frankly, I was afraid of what a "pee pee" song might sound entail.