It’s Valentine’s Day. There’s dinner. And wine. And putting the kids to sleep. And soft music. Some more wine. There’s sexy lingerie. (Not mine. Wipe that image from your brain.) And, yet, more wine.
But, the “putting the kids to sleep” part has always been the most difficult part. The others come later.
I know, most people see in their minds: images of mothers and their kids.
As a Dad, I object. Please, don’t leave us out.
For the last eight (plus) years, I have cuddled and snuggled and tickled my girls to sleep. Stories. And laughs. And humiliations. They love it. I love it. Hell… I’ve made a cottage industry out of it.
Did I mention my blog…?
Tonight is Valentine’s Day.
Isabella (she’s 6): Daddy, You snuggle with me. Julianna (she’s 8) gets Mommy.
The rules are set.
There are no favorites at sleepy-time in our household. Usually, the warmest, snuggliest, least-yellingest parent is the first one to be summoned. The other has to deal…
Tonight. Daddy is up first (i.e. yelled the least.) Me. I’m totally surprised. Totally surprised.
Climbing into bed with Isabella, she plays peek-a-boo until my right hand starts lightly scratching her back. Things begin to quiet down. My left arm has totally fallen asleep.
In the adjoining bed, Mommy has wrangled, cornered, and harnessed the older one to bed. I salute her.
Juianna: Mommy, sing “Baby Mine!”
It’s from Dumbo, the baby elephant. A beautiful lullaby.
Mommy (singing): “Baby mine, don’t you cry….”
By the time Mommy finishes, both girls are asleep. Isabella is snoring like a bear after three months of hibernation.
Meanwhile, I’m wiping tears off of the pillow case.
You know… Daddies also like to cuddle up with their children. We aren’t barbarians (mostly.)