Our bedtime routine is pretty well established. It ends with me leaving the room, and the kids’ momma singing ”Stay Awake” (from Mary Poppins) while they fall asleep.
Occasionally my wife is not available, leaving me with the honor of doing the last song. For a long time, I used my own variant of “rock-a-bye baby”:
in daddy’s arms,
When the wind blows,
you’ll come to no harm.
When the storm breaks,
and the rain starts to fall,
You’ll be aslee-eep,
dreaming of it all!
I substitute their name for “baby” – which means I end up singing it twice (once to each child). Last year, however, they decided they wanted me to do Stay Awake instead. Since then, I’ve let them pick between Stay Awake, Rock-a-bye baby, Let It Be, and (of course) Spiderman.
This arrangement has worked quite well – up until the other night. My oldest and his mom were out late, and I was putting our youngest to bed.
“Daddy,” he said. “Could you sing rock-a-bye tonight?”
“Sure,” I answered, tucking the sheet around him.
“Because it’s shorter.”
“Shorter?” I asked.
“Yeah, it’s shorter.”
“You don’t like my singing?”
“Um, good night, daddy!”