I was having a hard time putting the kid down to sleep last night. He usually fights it, and eventually succumbs after a bribe of breast milk, but tonight was an exception. I finally was able to corral him on the bed, curled up with him and patted him on the tummy. Turned out the lights out around the house. After a few minutes, I looked down and saw that his eyes were still wide open.
I say, “what’s wrong, kiddo?” and continue patting. Then…THEN…he starts to babble and coo. Melodically cooing and babbling, though, and not in a “mom is reading WAY too much into what I’m doing right now” sort of way.
He wants me to sing to him to help him get to sleep…because that’s what Dudeguy does during the day.
I break out the old standby “Midnight Special” (the song that Dudeguy sung to him in utero, the one he sang to him after he was born and instantly got him to stop crying - TRUE STORY, and the one that never fails to quiet him when he’s fussy).
He was out before the end of the song. Shit was amazing to me….not only because it worked, but because he ASKED FOR IT.
I had to post this because I want to remember these things later when they become reminders of what my baby once was when he is grown, stinky, and having sexual relations. Eww.