Wednesday, February 15, 2012


All the Valentine-y talk of love yesterday transported me back a couple of decades to when Boy#1 was born and I began the life stage that included endless singing of lullabies.

I wanted my dear children to drift off to sleep knowing how much I loved them, so I sang this:

And when they were still awake, I sang this:

Husband, on the other hand, was a youngest child and had avoided babies as if they had cooties. He is a fabulous father, but this fabulous-ness came because he was determined to be up to the role, not because he instinctively knew what to do. The first time I plopped a fretful baby Boy in his lap to be rocked to sleep my prince looked up me nervously.

"But I don't really know any lullabies--what should I sing?"

"Honey, I don't think he speaks English yet. Just sing anything you know, nice and soft, and he'll love it."

And that's why for the next 10 years my sons drifted off to sleep to the sounds of Husband's college's Alma Mater and this:

No wonder the Boys tend to fall asleep in church.

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