The kid and I went to the store this afternoon to stock up on Diet Coke, but the shelves were bare. Apparently the Coke truck hadn't turned up yet, and so Amadou, the store manager, apologized and offered us a raincheck.
So I told the kid how the truck didn't come and so she started saying "No Coke for Amadou" all the way home.
And just now, when we started talking about our day with Mommy after dinner, she started singing and dancing around: "No Coke for A-ma-DOU. No Coke for A-ma-DOU." Now she won't stop; she's beating the microwave in time with a pair of sticks.
Meanwhile, I'm getting afraid to take her back to the store tomorrow, in case she freaks him out with her voodoo chants.
But my biggest fear is that we've been neglecting or even stifling her innate musical genius; the kid has been a music fan since like day 60.