Miss S’s voice crescendoed to the tip-top of her range. She flung her hot pink plastic tiara, shrugged her shoulder and tipped her hand royally. It was time to write about *that* song.
You know the song. It’s been on the tip of everyone’s tongues since Frozen opened in theaters back in November. “Let it go, Let it go…” I’ve seen covers by choirs; watched Good Morning America sing it coast to coast; commiserated with the mum parody – Yes, sigh, it’s true, I have let it go as I put on my stretchy yoga pants… We, of course, gathered around the TV, while Idina Menzel sang it at the Oscars.
But my favourite of all renditions is when I hear the tiny voices (or not so tiny in the case of Miss S) sing along to the soundtrack from three different corners of the house.
I know better than to join in. My lark-like voice warbles in like bug spray, effectively killing the magic. So, like a good mum, I wait till they’ve had their fill and then it’s watch out Elsa; cue the jazz hands.
Lately the trio have formed a theatre troupe. My husband and I have been invited to shows featuring song, dance, monkeys and yes: the song.
Each time a miniature usher points out my designated seat, I am transported to the 80s, when a certain friend and I would act out songs, and dance, for her parents.
Though I was always cast in the *ahem* male roles, we couldn’t get enough of performing. Our dramatic number to Almost Paradise from Footloose involving a baton and some folding chairs was mint.
I see the same joy in the littles as they spin and twirl for my husband and I. Though unlike my friend and I from the 80s, none of them seem to be clamouring for the staring roll. They each have their parts, take turns and laugh at the folly of it all.
Two nights ago, when Miss S took centre stage on the steps of the bunkbed, her acapella cover of Let It Go brought down the house. Literally. The tiara took out Miss Q’s carefully placed Playmobil; feet were stomping; thankfully when the imaginary glove came off, her room didn’t turn to ice, though it looked like a twister had whirled its way through at the end.
Love it, or hate it, there is power in this music, well beyond the fast tempo and thought-provoking lyrics. It has taught Miss C how to sing and turned Miss S into a showgirl. But if you are quiet, and listen deep past the baseline, you will hear the foundation for life-long music lovers being poured.