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[Clara is playing. Her mom has given her a small irregularly-shaped piece of leftover fabric with the ends stitched together; she wears it on her head and calls it a hat. She sees a toy clock on a shelf. Starts moving its hands around. Sings:]

Hickory, dickory, dock.
A mouse run up the clock.

[Clara’s “hat” falls off her head. Still singing, in tune:]

My hat fall off,
A mouse run down,
Hickory, dickory, dock.

The following were actually written in the car one or two years ago; I just came across them again and decided it was the right time.

I’m dreaming of a green Christmas

I’m dreaming of a green Christmas
So I don’t have to shovel snow
‘Cause when I start liftin’,
My spine starts shiftin’,
And soon, my back will start to go…

Last night I dreamed that Buddy was taking a bath outside my window.

Here’s a little piano playing from this evening.

I asked Dad for a piano sound today. Then I strummed on the guitar with my pick, and then I bonked the pick on the drum pad a little. Here’s what it sounded like:

Today I was playing the drum in Dad’s office that makes lots of different sounds through the computer. He kept changing the sound it would play, and then I’d play the drum to see what it was. Once he changed it and said, “What’s that sound?” I played the drum pad. It was a tuba. I like the tuba. I said “Tuba!” He was all surprised because I’d only ever heard him make a tuba sound with his voice. Psha.