So I’m jumping right back in here after a few weeks (I’m gone for a month or two and now strike through doesn’t work anymore? WordPress, what’s up with that?) of apathy. I have some back stories to get to, but that’s harder for me than starting in the now.
So this morning as Maggie was tinkering on my iPhone, she asked what the microphone was for. I explained that you could record messages and then play them back for yourself later. (A grand idea for note taking on the go/in the car – except then you have to remember that you took notes before they become meaningless ramblings, and you have to listen to your own recorded voice.)
She, of course, wanted to try out this new-to-her app. So we got it going and she sang her own very twangy version of Rocky Top (which I find both endearing and frightening – because it reminds me that my children were both born in Tennessee… and while I LOVE it here for so many reasons, it still surprises me that their birth certificates will always say Tennessee.)
And then we played it back and listened to it.
And because she is a mind-reader, as soon as the last note was over, she said “Don’t send this to anyone.”
Is that the same as “don’t post this on your blog?” I think yes. I swear I was mentally trying to figure out how to send the file right as she said that.
I agreed that I wouldn’t. (Another caveat to many of the recent months – she has started asking me not to repeat things to other people – which means many of her stories are now “protected.” But that’s another post entirely.)
“You know why I don’t want you to play it for anyone?”
“I don’t like it because they used the wrong voice.”
I remember the first time I heard my own voice on a tape recorder (shut it) and I cringed at the sound. Still do on my own voicemail.
So I explained how our own voice vibrates differently through our head, thus we sound different to ourselves than to everyone else. (Kind of made that up, but I think it’s fairly accurate.)
To prove it, and because I love my child, I sang into the silly little app and played it back for her. She said it sounded just like me, and I tried not to visibly cringe while listening. I told her that even though her own recording sounds funny to her, that’s what everyone else is already used to.
“OK. But you still can’t send that to anyone.”