They DO Light Up My Life

This evening as I was scratching Kai’s back at bedtime, I commented in an off-hand kind of way, “I wonder why I even bother scratching your back at night.  The second I leave your room you pop right out of bed and monkey around for another half-hour or so.”  I wasn’t really expecting an answer.  I mean, I know why I do it:  cuz it’s our thing.  I like spending that time one-on-one, with each of the boys, at the end of the night.  Plus they’re just so gosh darned cuddly at this age.  I love it.

I wasn’t expecting an answer, so I was surprised to hear Kai respond back, in as matter of fact of a voice that can be expected of a four year old, “Well you never actually sing to me…”

I thought this over for a moment and then started singing Rock-A-Bye-Baby.

“No,” he stopped me.  “Not that one.”

“Oh, um.  Okay.  How about this one.”  I started with Mama’s Gonna Buy You A Mockingbird.

“Nuh uh.”

I was stumped for a second — those were my two stand-by lullabies.  So I dug deep.  And I ended up back in 1977.  All the way back to the seven-year old me, serenading my parents in our livingroom in Morristown, New Jersey, so proud that I had finally learned all the words.

I finished the first verse and noticed that Kai had seemed to settle down.  Who knew Debby Boone was so soothing? Another verse and a chorus or two later, and I tiptoed out of his room across the hall to Colin’s room.

“Hey,” I said, as I shooed him into bed.  “Kai asked me to sing him a song tonight.  Want me to sing one to you too?”

“Yeah,” he said, “What song?”  I told him.  “That’s a bad name for a song.”

“Well, sure,” I agreed.  “But it was a big hit in its time.”

He shrugged and snuggled down in his sheets.  And I began again.  Quietly, softly.  So many nights, I’d sit by my window.  Waiting for someone to sing me his song. Colin turned his face to watch me as I sang to him.  He had a strange little look on his face.  In the dark it looked almost like he was… smirking?

“What?”  I stopped, suddenly a bit self conscious.  “Is it bad?”

“No!  It’s good.  It’s a pretty song.  And you sing so pretty too, Mom.”

Aww…

The lyrics lack even one iota of subtlety — the word “cheesetastic” comes to mind —  but there’s clearly something about the tune that has stood the test of time, at least with the four to six year old age bracket.

Tonight was the first time in a long while that the boys actually stayed in bed after I left their rooms at the end of the night.  As I walked down the stairs, I pictured them drifting off into a deep sleep dreaming about sitting at a window, looking longingly for someone to come along to light up their lives…