Song

There’s a little ritual that I’ve been indulging in for quite awhile now that is pretty much my favorite part of the day - Oxycodone.

I kid of course. Seriously, I’m kidding.

No, it’s putting Kickers down for sleep every night. I’m sure this sounds dumb, and I’m way “kidding out”, so I apologize ahead of time.

The night will lead to dinner, and depending on the sauce quotient of said dinner, it may lead to a bath as well. There’s a diaper changing where we practice the alphabet or counting (it keeps him from getting upset with me for being all up in his junk), there’s the dressing in PJ’s which eventually itself leads a tickle fest of grand proportions. Afterwards, there’s usually some reading.

All of that’s fine and well, it’s the next step that’s the one. And understand, like most kids, this one is not one for just giving up the ghost and charging into sleep, he likes to fight, fight against the dying of the light. There have been some epic screaming fits, particularly when we rudely took the bottle away.

Like father, like son.

But the routine… We get the blanket, he wraps his little arm around my neck, sort of cocks his head on my shoulder, and man, if I have any say in it, that’s a feeling I want to take with me when I go. Then I start to sing.

I don’t know why, but “Ship of Fools” by the Grateful Dead has become the lullaby of choice. He doesn’t shout out requests, I don’t do encores. When I’m done, I tilt him down to get him into the crib and he’s usually either blinking long and slow as if the Baby Oxycodone has kicked in, or he’s smiling. I ask for a kiss, and get it. Then I say my goodnights and walk out to never a fuss since the singing started.

It’s nice that at least once a day I can do something that actually means something.