The Voice Artist

D has been practicing various sounds for a few days now. When asked, she says she wants to hear all the sounds she can make. Fair, considering that she is indeed a drama queen and it is in the best interest of her profession to master various sounds and learn mimicry. 

Here’s her repertoire:
Little baby – the one that cries a lot
Baby – the one that has a cute voice but can’t talk
Big baby – A 3 year old
The Treasure Chest in a Polka Dotted Dress – D in her current state of attire

Having mastered various voices, she's graduated to sounds. With the loss of her two front teeth, she's realized another hidden talent - blowing out of the gap; whistling and enjoying the ‘music’ from her newly acquired aerophone. She now also produces the ‘hiss’ of a snake with a lisp, the ‘neigh’ of a tormented horse and bleats like a goat who’s caught cold.Quite a range eh?  But she's not the one to settle for mere accomplishments over voice and sound variations, she has quickly now moved on to cries and laughs.
She’ll cry like various animals including humans. Her favorite cry however is that of a six-year-old.  She also tries to imagine how I would have cried when I were her age. If what she thinks is indeed the real deal, I owe a lot of apologies to my beloved parents. Nobody can be made victims to such inhumane torture. Sorry ‘ma. Sorry ‘pa.

When it comes to the laughs,it's a different ballgame altogether. Apart from the usual suspects – the hyena, the coy bride, the shy child, the mean guys she also does impressions of herself – if she were ever to turn evil.
“Why are you practicing such a strange laugh?” I asked her today, not wanting to hear the answer.
“I am practicing for when I become evil Mamma”, she replied nonchalantly.  “This is how you will know I’ve become evil.”
“So you won’t have jutting teeth or protruding horns and a tongue sticking out?” I asked innocently.
“No. I won’t be ugly evil. I’ll even wear my tiara and my polka-dot-dress. I’ll just laugh like this.” She said.
“So what should I do when you turn evil, to be safe from your ways?”
“Just give me what I want”
“And if I don’t, will you eat me?” I asked her.
“Of course not, you are my mother.” She said.
“Then what will you do?”

She hadn’t thought through this.
“I’ll laugh louder, and if you still don’t give me…” she paused thinking of what she could possibly do to get her way. “… If you don’t give me even then, I’ll cry like you, when you were a baby.”
Touche, my child. Touche!

(Image Credit: Pixabay)

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