A new routine has snuck up on us over the past week. After bath, books, bottle and blankie, Olivia knows what comes next. She reluctantly lays her head on my shoulder and waits for me to carry her upstairs, saying "It's sleepy-bye nigh-nigh time." Then I lay her in her crib, tell her I love her, and tip-toe out.
But for the past week, she's made a tiny little protest when I step out. She does the same thing for Joel. Its as if she needs one more really good hug and snuggle before she calls it a day. So we pick her up, snuggle her close, and sing a little song.
My songs include "ABC's" (she loves it) and "Twinkle Twinkle Little Star" (same melody as ABC's, therefore she loves it). Sometimes I pull out the songs my mom used to sing to me, and I find that my grown-up voice sounds much like hers did when she was my young mama and I was her young baby. Then my heart feels full, as I realize how much God has blessed me, when I look at my curly haired little toddler who wants to cuddle for "just five more minutes."
So last night, Joel took his turn to sing Olivia her bedtime encore. He's much more creative then me, and sometimes I hear him humming tunes by Radiohead and I am reminded once again that my husband is much cooler than I am. Last night, though, he was up there for more than five minutes and Olivia was still fussing a bit. I went up, took over, and he went downstairs. I sang "I love you, a bushel and a peck..." she said "gan" so I repeated it, and then it was lights out.
I went downstairs and Joel said "you win the prize for picking the right song" and I giggled and asked him what went wrong with his encore.
He continued to type at the computer, straight-faced and almost hurt: "She didn't like my version of God Bless America."