Why I Love Toys That Make Noise

I had always thought that I would hate toys that made noise. Those really obnoxious toys that play the same idiotic, tinny melody over and over again. You, though, have made me love those toys. When I hear those toys, I think "I know where Isabelle is and she's playing with something safe." It's almost like a pavlovian response now. I hear the train playing "I've Been Working On the Railroad" (a tune I've always loved, partly because my Grandfather worked on the railroad for real) and I relax and enjoy my coffee.

When I hear nothing, that's when I go looking for you. Generally you are 1) playing in the dog water dish 2) playing in the dog kennel or 3) pulling on the Christmas lights. Now that you can crawl like the wind (quickly and quietly) you can be anywhere in the house by the time I've washed off your high-chair tray.

We had planned on making the office an Isabelle-only-under-close-supervision room, but we are in there so much that we're re-thinking that strategy. When you are in there, even though we have a box of your toys in there, you seem unwaveringly drawn to the CD's. Why is that?! Why is a CD so much more fun than a frog or colorful plastic loops? And the amount you are drawn to it seems to be directly proportional to how important the disc is and how difficult it would be to recreate it if you scratched it. I think there's another law of nature in there somewhere.