Return of the Diva

This morning I was awakened by the sound of Charlotte crying. It wasn't early, so I wasn't really worried. "She's probably hungry," I thought. Then the cry changed to the one that makes moms run. So I hopped out of bed and I ran.

Charlotte was sitting in her crib, sobbing.

Hannah immediately volunteered the reason:

"I was singing opera. Charlotte kept singing something else. I told her to stop. And then she fell down."

"Did she have help falling down?"

"No. I was singing opera and she wouldn't listen. And then she fell down."

"How did she get the red mark on her face?"

"She fell down. By herself. And banged her face on the crib. By herself."

Hannah loves opera--has from the first time she ever heard it. Maybe that's because she actually heard it in utero: Thomas and I went to see Andrea Bocelli when I was about five months along and she was kicking like crazy during the whole concert. There's a funny story that goes along with that--Thomas won't let me forget it but I'll save the long version for another time. Short version: I had only heard Andrea Bocelli--loved his voice; never seen him. I said something about him always having his eyes closed in his photos. Thomas told me that Bocelli was blind. I was, to put it mildly, mortified. (Ironically this made me able to feel for GW Bush when he made his unfortunate comments to a visually-impaired reporter wearing sunglasses to a press conference.)

So anyway. Hannah is an opera fan. Charlotte is not. Hannah may or may not have knocked Charlotte over for her lack of musical appreciation. But I didn't see it and Charlotte can't talk, so I can't punish Hannah for something that may not have happened. Unless you consider punishment to be (as she did) the chat about why we have to be nice to other people, especially people who, one day, are going to be big enough to hit back.