Last Saturday was fun and stacked. I don't have a problem with stacked, but Jude usually at some point will find something he doesn't like about stacked.
As we made our way home from Pasadena, where we'd spent the afternoon, Jude was making his negative sentiments known, loud and clear. He is normally an ecstatic baby, but it was sort of getting to the point where Jeff and I were tuning-out, you know what I'm saying? Food and beverages, toys, good old parental attention, etc. had been administered and rebuffed. Even with tuning-out, or giving up on him obtaining happiness until his heart got what it most wanted--to be free of the car--Jude has a particular cry/whine that grates my nerves. As this was blaring and threatening to ruin my tune-out, a song came on the radio!
Sunday, Bloody Sunday has always been one of my favorite U2 songs. In Europe it might be strongly worded, but we are in America. I think if I were to learn percussion, this song would be the one I'd spend all day playing. It's a good one to sing extra loudly. Jeff loves it too, and sing loudly we did.
And a magic thing happened.
Jude was hushed.
Was it love at first listen? Was it because Jeff's car has a swanky sound system and that in addition to our own elevated voices was maybe a little too much noise for crying to be thrown in too? We may never know. But for that last stretch of the drive home, while my lover and I happily sang one of my favorites that I listen to far too rarely, Jude was content.