The boy sings constantly.
He sings Incessantly. Little tunes he makes up in his head or a phrase he might pick up from a song on the radio that he puts on an endless loop. He’ll sing, content in his own little world, completely oblivious to what’s going on around him . Often times he will sing as he’s engaged in other activities completely unaware that he’s doing it.
It’s an endearing trait. When it’s not totally grating on my nerves, that is. But mostly, it’s endearing.
This afternoon as I was straightening up in the living room Zander entered singing one of his little songs. I couldn’t quite make out what he was singing — nothing unusual — but the tune was catchy. This one was a bit different though as it seemed a tad forced and he kept stopping and starting over again.
He let out an exasperated little huff and I asked, “What’s wrong, Buddy?”
“I can’t sing it in Spanish,” he replied the frustration clear in his voice.
“Zander,” I said. “You don’t know Spanish!”
“Oh…,” he said his eyes opening wide with the realization. “That’s why!”