When I imagine helping out with Kate (The Kateling, The Katelet, She Of The Diminutive Toes, etc.), I imagine singing to her. But my memory for lyrics isn't what it used to be, and most of my kiddie-song repertoire has long since vanished from recall. What I remember is what I currently listen to, which is mostly Howling Heartbroken Woman Music. (It's kind of odd, since I'm a mostly contemplative, mostly contented woman. Go figure.) And the songs of my childhood are quirky at best, anyway.
The repertoire really is a problem. Pru and Zach won't care, my extended clan won't care, but Zach's people are Intensely Catholic Republican Beef Ranchers From Nebraska. My musical diet, heavy on Tori Amos and Ani DiFranco, is not so heavy on things that won't shock the other side of Kate's family. Picture it: Kate, age four and increasingly fluent of speech, chasing me down at her birthday party demanding, "Auntie Sarah! Auntie Sarah! Do 'The Cunt Song' again!" Thank you, Ani DiFranco. Picture the kindergarten teacher sending home the note on the first day of school asking why little Kate knows so many songs about strychnine and cyanide. Thank you, Tori. Thank you, Tom Lehrer. And my extensive collection of Pagan ritual chants is Right Out. Pru and I have long since accepted the inevitability that I will be the token Weird Relative. Every child needs one. But I don't want to get the poor girl in trouble.
I need some innocent earworms. I hear They Might Be Giants started recording music for children while I wasn't looking. Thank goodness. (I couldn't very well sing her TMBG's "Youth Culture Killed My Dog." The dogs adore her. No traumatic lullabies!) Aside from TMBG and the old Kingston Trio albums my mother raised me on, I'm entirely at a loss.