Little Drummer Girl

About this time last year, I was quite pregnant with my Charlotte—about 8 months along. Being the major Christmas fan that I am, I had Christmas music playing all the time. And one song in particular always—without fail—made the Charlotte fetus inside me kick and roll: “The Little Drummer Boy” (Emmylou Harris’s version). Once I figured this out, I exploited this knowledge and abused the car stereo and iTunes, repeating "Little Drummer Boy" over and over again. Could Charlotte really hear the music? And was she actually responding to it? Or, was she simply finding the close quarters of my womb confining? Having now observed her sleeping behaviors for almost a year—she’s a mighty wiggly, restless little sleeper—the whole “Little Drummer Boy” thing might have been a coincidence. But I hope not. Well, it’s now Christmastime again, and thus we continually play festive music, from Nat King Cole to medieval choral pieces. The other day, as we drove to work/school, “Little Drummer Boy” came on via Sirius/XM, and Charlotte got really excited, banging her teether on her car seat to match the rhythm of the rum-pum-pum-PUM. Yes, I’m serious. Chris was there, too. He witnessed the whole thing. Thrilled, I’ve downloaded all sorts of versions of “Little Drummer Boy,” from Bob Dylan to Pink Martini. Charlotte gets such a kick out of the rum-pum-pum-PUM, and we dance to it, clap to it, bounce to it, and sing to it. Perhaps she’ll grow up declaring “Little Drummer Boy” as her favorite Christmas song. (Or, perhaps she’ll say, “What the--? There was a drum set at the birth of Jesus? That doesn’t make any sense. What kind of loony song is this?”) Growing up, my all-time most favorite Christmas song was “Away in the Manger.” When I was a wee lass, singing my preschool heart out in the cherub choir at church, “Away in the Manger” was the very first Christmas song I memorized all the words to. I didn’t even need to watch Mrs. Nichols hold up the pictures in front of us to remember the next line. I knew it that well. Second, I was just starting to learn my letters and write my name. And, my name starting with the letter “A,” I recognized the “A” in Away. I thought it was the biggest coincidence ever that this song and my name started with the same spectacular letter. Thus, I felt like “Away in the Manger” was my song. Sure, other kids would sing it along with me on Sunday morning, but did their names begin with the letter A? Probably not. Finally, I think “Away in a Manger” has a perfect simplicity that resonates with young children. The song is a lullaby—a form of music practically all children know and hold dear. Also, the lyrics create the perfect images that children can easily understand as they begin to grasp the Christmas story. After all, the song is about a baby. Someone startlingly similar to a small child, no? Away in a manger, no crib for a bed, The little Lord Jesus laid down his sweet head, The stars in the sky looked down where he lay, The little Lord Jesus, asleep in the hay. How could this song fail to strike a child’s fancy? All Mrs. Nichols had to do was explain what a manger was, and the song could do the rest. Of course Baby Jesus had no crib—He was born in a barn! Of course Mary put Him in a manger—where else would she have put Him? Of course the stars looked down where He lay—it was nighttime! Of course Baby Jesus is sleeping in hay—hay is what would be in a manger because animals eat hay! I also think children pay special attention to the baby aspect of the Christmas story. After all, if what their parents and Sunday school teachers have told them is true, the king of the world started out as . . . simply a baby. Not so terribly different, a young child might surmise, as him- or herself. Yet Baby Jesus is still obviously set apart, children recognize, by not sleeping in a crib like normal, non-savior-of-all-mankind babies. No, He instead sleeps in a manger. What single image could more effectively communicate Baby Jesus’s humanness and specialness to a very small child? An adult might argue that Baby Jesus sleeping in a lowly, dirty manger constitutes a symbolic juxtaposition that illustrates how far down God had to come to become human. Sure, I'd buy it. But I venture this argument: Little kids think being born in a barn is cool. Sleeping in a manger? Even cooler. I mean, the Son of God sleeps where cows eat! Crazy, eh? And here is a song that celebrates that wildness! I mean, it's like putting up a tent in the living room to sleep in. Not weird or uncomfortable or a sign of poverty--just plain cool because it's so unsual. Thus, I’m going to agree with my 3- or 4-year-old self and argue that “Away in a Manger” is, quite possibly, the perfect children’s Christmas song. It didn’t hurt that the letter A is so highly profiled. Or that it’s so easily memorized. Or that animals are (marginally) involved. Of course, as Charlotte would probably argue, songs that go rum-pum-pum-PUM are pretty good, too. Now, in honor of mangers and to prove we humans are far too tasteless to deserve having God deign to become one of us, I direct you to the Calvacade of Bad Nativities (a link I’ve stolen from my friend Molly—she posted it on her blog first. And did it better.).