Sister of Serendipity

From the time I can remember, I have sung to my kids at bedtime.

I realize this is not a unique tradition, but one in our household that we treasure nonetheless. Over the years, the nightly serenade has had different iterations: Rock-a-Bye Baby (sans the “down will come baby, cradle and all”), Hush Little Baby (with made-up verses…after all, who can remember anything after “and if that diamond ring don’t shine”?) and ultimately, Lullaby.

It has remained our nightly constant and provides not only a source of comfort, but a can’t-go-to-bed-unless-I-hear-it necessity. I’ve watched eyes roll back in tired heads, I’ve been commissioned to sing it again with desperate pleading, and even been accused of skipping a verse, all in an attempt to prolong the inevitable bedtime.

But tonight’s serenade took on a whole new meaning: after 3 nights away, Lullaby from the one-and-only returned. While I believe my voice could rival a herd of sick dogs, Carter seemed to think it was quite lovely.  In his just-about-asleep voice, he uttered:

“You sing Opera.”

(That’s little boy innocence for, “Mommy, I like it when you sing to me and I missed you when you were away.”)

Suddenly I’m inspired to go empty the dishwasher (again) and fold some (more) laundry.