When Captain Jelly Belly was a baby, Sir Monkeypants used to calm him down by rocking him to music. He’d go into our office and select a few MP3s, and then either dance around with the Captain, or let him watch the groovy kaleidascope display on the screen while having a little knee bounce. Sir Monkeypants’ favourite song to play for the Captain was Escape by Enrique Iglasius, a song which is in no way part of our personal taste in music. Rather, it was an ode to Sir Monkeypants’ oldest nephew, whose parents, sadly, indoctrinated him early to Enrique, and so he knew all the words to Enrique’s major hits by age 2, and could sing them in a most endearing way.

To this day, the Captain still refers to Escape as “his song,” and he also loves such groovy pop hits as The Sign by Ace Of Base and every pseudo-techno-tune featured on Lazytown. It’s all Sir Monkeypants’ fault.

With Gal Smiley, Sir Monkeypants sometimes used the same technique, but although he did use a sprinkling of Hi-5 songs, he often chose real rock. I remember one favourite was Brown Eyed Girl by Van Morrison. I think he also may have introduced her to Kelly Clarkson and Avril Lavigne. Now her favourite song is C’Mon C’Mon by the Von Blondies. She definitely prefers a rawkin’ guitar solo in everything she is listening to (although, she continues to have a soft spot for Hi-5).

And now, it’s the Wee One’s turn. I like to sing to my babies while comforting them, and early on she showed a preference for Time After Time by Cyndi Lauper. When she was just two weeks old, we had to take her to the hospital for an ultrasound, and after several performances of Time After Time in the waiting room, I moved on to a medly of 80s hits, whatever came to mind. And thus, we discovered that the Wee One’s absolute favourite song is Please Please Please Let Me Get What I Want, by The Smiths. Not exactly the most cheerful lullaby…but guaranteed to work. A couple of nights ago, she was fussy, so created a playlist of Smiths tunes — all with depressing lyrics set to a catchy beat — for her to listen to, and magically, she was calmed. And it’s not just that the dulcet stylings of Morissey soothes her; it’s that she has to coo and smile along, as if she is thinking, “Oh, those Smiths, such a noir sense of humour!”

We expect her first words to be, “Mom, can I wear black today? Maybe with a little eyeliner? Thanks.”