Every night we go through the same bedtime routine
We take a bath, we brush those tiny teeth, we wrestle into our footie pajamas, we say goodnight to dad, and then–just the two of us–we snuggle into the rocking chair with a stack of books.
Bedtime is one of my favorite times of the day and probably not for the reasons you might think. I don’t just enjoy it because it means I have the next few hours to myself (although that’s a close second). Instead, it’s because it’s my last chance of the day to get it right.
During the day, there are so many times I get it wrong. There are those times when I’ve let him watch far too many episodes of Bob the Builder while I respond to one more email or check one more thing off of my to-do list. Then there are those times when things don’t go as planned or the mess is too much, and my frustration takes over. Sometimes I call a cheese stick and crackers a meal. And there are so many shoulda-woulda-couldas constantly rolling around my thoughts.
But no matter what happens during the day, there’s always bedtime.
There’s always bedtime to tell him he’s my favorite. To whisper stories and count fingers and toes, and giggle. To tell him how much his daddy and I love him and how we miss him when he goes to sleep.
I inhale that sweet, clean smell of baby shampoo and lotion and start on The Little Blue Truck. Even though I’ve read the story far too many times to count and I’m practically reciting it by memory, snuggled in with the familiar weight of a toddler, I read like I’m trying out for a Broadway play.
Once his eyes get too heavy, we say our prayers, and I tuck him in with one last “Sweet Dreams; I love you.”
I know bedtime won’t always look like this. But for now, this bedtime routine, it’s my little thing. One last chance to echo my best intentions and an encouraging comfort that tomorrow brings another day.
