If I had my way – and just to be ‘too forward’ as they say – I would turn it around and sing the song back at dad like, ‘Aren’t I lovely? Aren’t I beautiful? etc etc. It’s not about the lovely baby Stevie sings about. And the second time, and the twenty-teenth time….” Well, it turns out it isn’t all about me because it seems all dad wants is for me to be like Stevie. But then, it quickly became like, “Okay dad. At first I was really happy to listen to the song and would give my widest, cutest eight-toothed smile, believing the song was all about me. My dad doesn’t say it directly, but he is forever planting me in front of the music speakers and starts playing ‘Isn’t she lovely’ at the loudest volume, as if I am deaf. For some not-so-strange reason, I feel as if I am expected to become like them. Apparently, there are all these wonderful blind musicians that are famous all over the world, and three in particular that my father and mother just will not stop talking about. I am already feeling the weight of human expectation on my little shoulders. Now, I don’t want to sound ungrateful but…. It even has its own drum and different musical instrument sounds. Just the right size and weight and it has real piano and organ sounds, not all that silly stuff you find on kiddie pianos. Straight up, my daddy got me my first piano recently.
Me, I have lots of good news to sing about…. These oyibo people and their superstitions sef.
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