And now this tradition continues.
But allow me to go back in time for a minute to tie this to the present.
For her first two years, I would sing to Natalie before bed each night after our reading time. It was special and beautiful. I love to sing, and though I don't do it very often anymore, she loved my voice and requested specific songs from the moment she could talk. I raised that girl on the hits of Norah Jones, the Eagles, Billy Joel, Elton John, and countless Disney favorites.
And then one evening, she broke a little piece of my heart. She was about two and a half, and she requested that I not sing to her.
Keith had been putting her to bed more frequently, now that Zach was in the picture. Because I was the one with the mammaries, I was putting him to bed each night and Keith was doing the important and often exhausting work of rearing our toddler. He saw his special time with her as an opportunity to bring back a long-standing tradition that was formed in his childhood, and my darling, loquacious girl took to it like a duck to water.
And while I did sing to my (then) baby Zach fairly frequently, I didn't do it with the passion I once had for my cherubic little lady. I was a working mom of two. I was tired. And I realized that it would be futile to get excited about a nightly routine that would soon be moot.
And so it was.
Zach turned two, moved to a big boy bed, and all of a sudden wanted nothing to do with my stirring cover of "Let it Go" from Frozen. Now that he was bigger, he wanted in on this Talk Time business. Singing went the way of the dodo.
And then, something magical happened tonight.
We were doing lots of fun activities to take our minds off of the fact that Keith was away in San Diego for his Gold Ribbon School honor. (So proud, btw!) We had dinner and made and decorated sugar cookies. Before bed, Natalie found a (fake) microphone from a costume I recently wore to an 80s party. (I had dressed as Jem and the costume I bought came with a sparkly mic.)
True Confession: I used the kids' face paint to do my rad eye makeup...which didn't show up in any other picture because the pink is apparently too close to my skin tone to appear in far-away photos. Hence an awkward selfie in the bathroom.
And this is when the magic happened.
I picked up the microphone and began to sing my orders to the kids. "Climb up the staaaaaaiiiiirs...get some pajamaaaaaaas!"
And when it seems like NOTHING ELSE ON THIS GREEN EARTH WORKS TO MOTIVATE THEM...this did. They smiled at me with stars in their eyes. Not the cliche stars, either. Like--real stars. I swear. I saw them.
And up they went, looking at me as if to say, "Keep singing, Mom! We love this!" And so I did.
My kids are full of attitude. Just look at them. They're throwing major shade. (That's what the kids are saying these days, isn't it?)
To make a long story epic, we continued at this throughout the bathing, tooth brushing, dressing, book picking, and potty-ing portions of our evening, much to my children's (and my) delight.
But then we read the books and when it was time to sleep, the kids wanted Talk Time.
Don't fret--I love it. I love talking to my kids. I love that there's no expectation of what I'll say or what they'll say (except on the thousandth occurrence of Zach asking to talk about Disneyland). I love hearing them ask me their burning--and sometimes inane--questions ("Does a pegasus always have a horn, too?"). And they frequently warm my heart with their observations as they view the world through kid-colored glasses.
Which brings me to what happened tonight...
Romeo (our grey, gorgeous, adorable, sweet, tolerant boy cat) popped up on Zach's bed, as usual, and began to walk up Zach's body, looking for love. I used this as a prompt to start our brief Talk Time--it was late, and I knew the kids needed to sleep.
"Romeo will start us off," I began. "Romeo, what topic would you like to talk about?"
To our chagrin, he just purred. But Natalie understood him.
"ZACH! Romeo wants to talk about all the things he likes about Zach!" she squealed. "I'll start. I love that Zach is precious and adorable."
"I love how cuddly Zach is, how much he loves us and the cats, and how intelligent he is. You're such a smart boy, buddy." I caressed his cheek softly, as he beamed at us, basking in this onslaught of adoration.
"Now it's Natalie's turn!" Zach shrilled excitedly.
"Okay, bud, what are your two favorite things about Natalie?" I inquired.
"Um...I love how she farts and poops!" At this, he dissolved into little boy giggles.
"Hmm...I think there are so many other things to love," I hedged. "Natalie," I looked into her soulfully-large and beautiful eyes, "I love your passion for life--how much you enjoy it--and I just love your brain. You're so smart. I love to hear the things you say." She grins with her whole being.
"Now it's Mama's turn!" she responds enthusiastically (totally proving my assertion about how much I love her passion for life and every little moment within it). "I love you, Mama. I love that you're my mama. And my best friend. And my sister!"
"Awww...thanks, baby! Hey Zach, what do you love about me?"
And without hesitation, Zach counters:
"I love that your face smells like...like...blueberry diarrhea!"
To which Natalie retorts, after significant inspection: "Yeah, and your nose holes are the right size and shape and have no boogers in them!"
And there you have it. Talk Time with Natalie and Zach. (And also my daily affirmation from here on out.)
