Inspiring star stories, week 3

Summer break is here, which means it’s also time for a break from pontificating, so I’ll  look to my creative writing pen for a time. Some of my students gave me the first and last lines of a potential story; my job is to fill in the middle! This week’s inspiration comes from Logan Lewis.

 

I woke up on the floor. No, this was not a regular occurrence. This was life as a parent of a toddler. Shanae would not fall asleep without me in her room. As her mother, I wanted her to learn to go to sleep without me in there, but I also couldn’t handle a screaming child. However, I vowed to get both of us through this phase.

 

The previous night I had tried to just go back to the rocking chair in Shanae’s room after putting her in her crib. However, that was apparently way too far away from the petulant child. So I had curled up with a pillow and blanket right next to the crib and survived through a tumultuous night. 

 

My son Dennis had never had these issues. I could read him a story and sing him a song and he was out like a light. Shanae enjoyed reading books with me; her favorite was The Monster at the End of This Book, a book starring Grover from Sesame Street. It had been one of my favorite books growing up, too.

 

But when I would sing to Shanae, she would just look at me, stupified, as if wondering what I was doing and why I thought it was a good idea. Dennis would usually hum along with my songs, even now at the age of five. But with Shanae, there was nothing when it came to music.

 

When I took her in to the doctor for a wellness check, I mentioned this lack of recognition of music. “I may not be a great singer, but, you know…” I said to Dr. Singer. She cocked her head, then burst into a fine rendition of “A Spoonful of Sugar” from Mary Poppins. It was professional-level singing!

 

Shanae just looked at Dr. Singer as if she had lost her mind.

 

Dr. Singer swung around to the computer and typed in a few things. She pursed her lips and looked back at us. “It’s possible she has amusia and can’t recognize what music is,” she said with a wrinkle in her forehead.

 

“Can we do anything about that?” I asked, suddenly panicked at what a life without music might mean for my daughter.

 

Dr. Singer consulted the computer again. “Well, the first thing is that we can’t medically diagnose it until she’s older and able to communicate better. If it’s indeed amusia, there’s no known cure, though some people just have a form of tone deafness, which can be worked on.”

 

We finished the rest of the appointment and I thanked the doctor. I called my husband on the way home and told him about this possibility of not being able to know what music was. We agreed there wasn’t much we could do about it right now, but I planned to keep singing.

 

“A Spoonful of Sugar” kept falling from my mouth. “In the most delightful way…” I trailed off as I carried Shanae into the house. She was seemingly oblivious. 

 

I had the rest of the day off from work, so we read some books and played with her toys, building blocks as high as we could before they would tumble to the ground. Shanae squealed with delight when that happened. We even got the brick stack as tall as her!

 

That night was the same as so many others, with Shanae screaming if I even indicated I was leaving the room. Dennis wandered in, carrying a few of his dinosaur toys. They were his comfort toys, and you could usually find a triceratops, stegasaurus, and brachiosaurus with him in bed.

 

“Maybe my dinosaurs can help Shanae feel better about sleeping?” he said as a question. He looked at his sister. “I’ll leave these by your crib to protect you,” he told her. She smiled and curled up on her pillow as Dennis stationed the plastic toys around her crib. It wasn’t long before Shanae was fast asleep. 

 

I smiled and snuck out to sleep in my own bed. A few hours later, I got up to use the bathroom. After that, I decided to check on the kids. As I walked in Shanae’s room, I tripped over a stuffed animal and landed right near the horns of one of Dennis’ toys. I glanced up, but Shanae hadn’t moved. That’s how we got Shanae to sleep on her own, and I got to meet a dinosaur up close!

 

Word of the Week: This week’s word is amusia, which means the inability to recognize or produce music, as in, “People thought she was tone deaf, but it was actually acute amusia which caused her to not be able to sing.” Impress your friends and confuse your enemies!