She sits in her high chair lazily eating graham cracker pieces and playing make believe with the bowl they came in. Her sing song babble is quiet but not quite under her breath. I lean in to lift her tray out of place and smell her baby hair which is sweet but also like nothing, like clean water tastes. In her ear I sing "blue jean baby, LA lady, a seamstress for the band..." I go on and sing other verses out of order and probably off key, but she doesn't care. Out of her chair now, she sways to them anyways and joins along in that same lilting voice.