In case you’ve missed it, it’s been raining a bunch lately. March/April/May in Chicago always seems like it should be nicer weather than it actually is. Even June can be a buzzkill. For example, when I went back to work the October after my June baby was born I was searching for my work ID badge (bawling the whole time, but that’s another story for another day). I found it three days later – in the heinous maternity fleece jacket/tent. The last day I went to work, which was June 10, I was wearing a fleece!
But this isn’t a post about weather. We’re too far along in our relationship to just chat about the weather, aren’t we? As I was saying, it’s been raining a bunch, and I’ve started singing to 20-month-old Eli “It’s raining it’s pouring, the old man is snoring.” And he LOVES it. He asks for it, and has taken on a role of back-up singer. It goes something like this:
Me: “It’s raining, it’s pouring”
Me: “The old man is snoring”
Now, it’s entertaining enough during the day, but the real reason for this post is my new absolute favorite tidbit in this adventure in motherhood.
I’ve been putting Eli to sleep the past few nights and he’s requested my singing (which is concerning, because I have the WORST voice in the universe). He’s asked for a particular song “Rock”, which is Rockabye Baby. So I have obliged. Our songs come after books are read and milk is sipped. The lights are all turned off and Eli is snuggled into me with his blankie. His head rests on my shoulder and what transpires is the sweetest of all wonderfulness:
Sung very softly:
Me: “Roackabye baby on the treetop”
Eli: whispered “treetop”
Me: “when the wind blows the cradle will rock”
Me: “when the bow breaks the cradle will fall”
Me: “and down will come baby cradle and all”
Eli: “and all”