Our regular bedtime routine ends with me taking the N to bed. Over the months, this routine has evolved into a pretty well-defined thing. After we read Good Night Moon, I pick him up, turn off the night light, sing Rockabye, and then put him in his crib. I tuck the blanket around him and he goes to sleep.
The only difficulty that crops up occasionally is that he asks for a different song. Fortunately, I have a pretty wide repertoire now (Stay Awake, Spiderman, Sing a song, Let it Be, Chim-Chimaney, and so forth) so that’s not a problem.
The other night it was a problem.
As I started to sing, N objected. “No, no, no, no, no! Sing Mr. Richard’s song!”
Mr. Richard is a local children’s singer who does a really, really good job. He’s pretty much tied with Laurie Berkner as our favorite children’s singer. Unfortunately, I couldn’t remember any of his songs. The problem isn’t the songs, it’s that I never hear them. “I’m sorry,” I said. “I can’t remember any Mr. Richard songs. How about you sing one?”
He thought about that for a little while, and then (very quietly) said “sing, sing a song.”
“I know that one!” I said, thinking he was doing the Sesame Street version. “La la, la-la-la, la la, la-la-la, Sing. Sing a song”
“No, no, no, no, no!” He interrupted. “Not smee street! Mr. Richard!”
I’m really growing to hate his five “No”s. Bedtime, however, is not the time to pick a fight. Instead, I said “Okay, sing it again.”
He whispered “sing, sing a song.”.
For some reason, this triggered my memory of another Mr. Richard song. “I got one!” I said. He looked at me, waiting, so I sang
always make sure that you’re wearing a pair
Underwear is the best!
“Yeah!” he said, and snuggled his head into my shoulder. I did that verse two more times (since I couldn’t remember any more), and then lifted him into the crib.
“Good night, little man” I whispered.
He rolled over under the blanket. “Goodnight Underwear.”