One of the reasons I started this web log was so we'd have a place to write down the little things Samantha does, before we forget them in the hustle and bustle of everyday life, or before she outgrows them and they're replaced in our thoughts by more recent behavior. So it's time to write down a couple of these things before it's too late.

The first one is what I call "the lunge", and the whole reason for this entry is that I noticed earlier today that Samantha has been doing this less and less as she develops greater hand-eye coordination. I think I'm going to miss it, though -- it's just so damn cute. Over the past month or so Sam has had a tendency to grab one of my index fingers in her fist, stare intently at it for 5 or 10 seconds, and then quite suddenly and without warning she'll pull sharply on the finger at the same time as she lurches up into a sitting position, stuffing the finger into her mouth and chewing on it for a few seconds before letting go and lying back again. A brief respite, and she's at it again. Grab ... stare ... lunge!. I just can't help cracking up when she does this. I suppose she's working on target practice, in a way. I've noticed her doing the same thing with bottles lately when she's especially hungry.

Yesterday when she was fussy and uncomfortable and I was trying to get her back to sleep, I found myself singing the old song "Down in the Valley" to her, without even realizing it. What's weird about this is that my very first conscious memory is of my mother rocking me, on a porch I think, and singing that song. It's a tremendously vivid memory, and I'm pretty sure this memory is from the time we lived in New Jersey, which we left befor I was very old. Whatever was going on with me at that point, this episode must have made a very strong impresson for me to remember it 40 years later and unconsciously sing the same song to my daughter. (And yes, it still feels strange to say "my daughter".) I wonder what, if anything, Samantha will take with her from these early months.

On a less happy note, earlier today I found myself singing "Shalom Rav" to her without thinking about it. That's something I swore I'd never do -- that was Emily's song. When we found out that Amy was pregnant the first time and I first started getting excited about being a dad I imagined singing our baby to sleep with that song. Well, I sang her to sleep, but not in the way I'd imagined. That was the last song I ever sang to Emily as she lay dying in my arms just hours after she was born, and by the time it was over she was gone and they were taking her away from me.

I can hardly bear to think about that moment even now, and the part of the liturgy at Erev Shabbat services where we sing that song never fails to bring tears. I'm sure that as soon as I finish posting this I'm going to go have a good cry somewhere for the daughter we didn't get to watch grow up. "An Emily moment", as Amy and I call them -- we both have them from time to time, and probably always will.

I intended to lock that song away somewhere and never sing it to Samantha, but it crept out while I wasn't paying attention. That's what having a miserable cold and a 100 degree fever will do for you, I guess. But maybe it's for the best. Maybe it's better to sing to her and when she's old enough I'll be able to tell her about the older sister she never got to know and the song that linked them together even after Emily was gone. I miss her.