Every baby has a personal lullaby—that one song that, no matter what the circumstance, seems to soothe them when they’re having issues (or “tame the wild beast,” whatever your perspective might be).

For L, that song is “Happy Talk,” from the 1949 Broadway musical, “South Pacific.”

It’s all her mother’s fault, really. My wife is a not-so-closeted musical junkie, and “South Pacific” is one of her faves. She started the kid on “There Ain’t Nothin’ Like a Dame” and “Bloody Mary” before L had even emerged from the womb. “Some Enchanted Evening” could have been the baby’s pre-birth theme song.

(Please, readers, don’t ever ask Powergirl about her family’s obsession with “The Sound of Music.” It will be embarrassing for everyone involved, including you.)

Anyway, early on in L’s life, my wife deduced that L found something riveting about the song, “Happy Talk.” Since then, every time the baby hears it, she stops whatever she’s doing, and just stares into space, smiling.

Naturally, then, the song has become our secret weapon to fight (those incredibly rare) crying fits. We use it most commonly in the car, since there’s no way we can actually reach the baby when she’s facing backward in the car seat. On one ride to the south part of our county, Powergirl once played the song ten consecutive times. Every time the song ended, L would cry until it started again.

I had my own personal experience with “Happy Talk” as a pacifier earlier this month. During a 75-minute drive from our house to Berkeley, I played the song on repeat for 61 minutes, or 19 consecutive times. It was the longest drive of my life.

But it worked. The baby was in one of those moods where she just didn’t want to be in the car seat. Yet, because of “Happy Talk,” she didn’t make a peep the entire time.

Personally, I have mixed feelings about this development. On the one hand, I’m delighted we’ve found something to soothe the baby under any circumstances. On the other hand, dear readers, if I have to listen to that ridiculous song again, I just might maroon myself on a Tahitian island for a while. You heard it here first.