Little L has developed a new favorite pastime over the last two weeks: playing audience in her crib as I or Powergirl sing to her in theatrical fashion.

We belt. We gesture with our hands. We even throw in a few step-ball-change moves here and there.

Judging by her laughter and the way L kicks her little feet back and forth while we sing, I’d say she loves every second of it.

It helps that both Powergirl and I have experience handling melodies. I’m a reformed (or, er, not so reformed, choir geek) and my wife did theater in high school and college. It also stands to note here that we’re both obsessed with the new Fox show, “Glee,” which often serves as inspiration for some of our most heart-felt routines.

(The title of this entry is a reference to the phrase Fox has come up with for self-proclaimed fans of the show).

Not that L would really notice if we sucked. Sing a tune or dance for her and she’s happy as a clam. She’s an encouraging audience because she always laughs. And she’s not discriminating with genre; in the last few days alone, we’ve performed everything from Andrew Lloyd Weber’s “Aspects of Love” to the Indigo Girls and Martin Sexton.

Perhaps the only downside to L’s newest form of entertainment is what our neighbors must think. Our neighborhood, like most in California, plops the houses pretty close together; I’m sure on days when our windows are open, the wackos next door can hear me belting high Bs (I have to sort of yell to get up there).

Thankfully, nobody has called the cops yet. Either that means the serenades aren’t as loud as I think, or I don’t actually sound half bad.