|Day 25 of 31 at TWT!|
"Oh yay! Mommy loves that one!" I whisper in her ear. And it's also one of the best songs for putting you to sleep, I think. I kiss her silky hair, pat her back, and start to sing. "When I woke up today, / I shouted out 'Hooray!' / 'cause I knew I'd see you, / and we could sing together..."
I think of all the times Laurie started one of her Facebook Live mini-concerts with this song, and what bright spots those daily "visits" were in the foggy distress of last spring.
At first, Rainbow's sweet voice chimes in, "la la la la la, / la la la la la..."
But when I move into my routine of improvising verses to summarize our day, she grows quiet, and settles more floppily against me. "... 'cause I knew I'd see you, / and we could read some books together..." I smile as I sing. This song, once the beginning of one of our favorite isolation activities, is now a special way to remember our day. Every once in awhile I lose focus and find myself without an idea when I'm supposed to be customizing another verse, but usually I'm pretty good about thinking through the day ahead of time.
"... 'cause I knew I'd see you, / and we could play MagnaTiles together..."
"... we could ride in the car together..."
"... we could color together..."
"... we could play check-up together..."
"... we could do sidewalk chalk together..."
"... we could walk with the stroller together..."
"... we could wear bunny ears together..."
The more awake she seems, the more verses I add. And although I want her to go down for her nap quickly, I also love reliving each day while snuggling with her in this cute way. In fact, some days I keep adding verses even if she's already all "floomfy" (a word we invented that means super floppy and snuggly) on me. But eventually, it's time for the last two customized verses, which are always the same:
"... 'cause I knew I'd see you, / and we could rock together..."
"... we could snuggle together..."
And I always finish with Laurie's real last verse, which is my absolute favorite:
"'cause I knew I'd see you,
and there's no better thing to do,
than sing a song and hear you sing it too,
la la la la."
I brush my fingers through her hair, kiss her head again, and slow the rocking chair to a stop, remember her sweet voice singing along at the beginning of the song, her smiles throughout the day, the way she sometimes dances and sometimes snuggles with me when we watch Laurie sing, the way she holds up one little fist for "I shouted out 'Hooray!'" when we listen to Laurie sing it.
There truly is no better thing to do.