When I put Payson to bed, she always asks for “one more song.”
Every night.
We spend several minutes next to her crib singing softly while she rests her head on my shoulder and grips me like a little koala bear refusing to let go of the day.
We started with one song. Then expanded to two. And now our little lullaby situation has evolved into a full-blown setlist.
While we sing, I’m constantly strategizing how to get her to lay down in her crib. I think about all the dishes in the sink, laundry that needs to be folded, and the lawn that needs to be cut. I’m well aware we still have to get through Charlie and Jack’s own bedtime routines and prep for tomorrow. And if we’re lucky, Jordan and I might finally get a few minutes to exhale ourselves.
But first I must work through the setlist.
“One more song, Daddy” Payson pleads.
“uhh…ok” I concede as we keep singing. While Payson’s singing voice is pretty rough by any technical standards, it is one of the sweetest sounds in the world to me.
We rotate through “I Believe I Can Fly” and “World’s Greatest” by R Kelly
Then amidst slow, tired blinks, we sing “What Dreams are Made of” by Hilary Duff and “Better Together” by Luke Combs.
We sing “So Long, Farewell” from The Sound of Music and now I’m mixing in a slow version of “Semi-Charmed Life” because the last line ends with “goodbyyyyyyeee.” Thought it might work.
But as I lay her down and slowly walk away, I hear a familiar request murmured just loud enough to hear over the sound machine, “Daddy, Daddy, Dadddy…one more song!”
Don’t get me wrong. I’m theoretically very supportive of discipline, routines, structure, and boundaries. I’ve seen how these kids operate. I’ve watched all three of them take inches and somehow turn them into miles. Every song that Payson added to our setlist was born from small moments of weakness that slowly contributed to a bigger time management issue. And I know I shouldn’t always give in to cute little requests. But this spring, an inconvenient truth is becoming more apparent.
With Payson getting closer to her third birthday, these bedtime routines are going to change, and the days of cribside songs and shoulder snuggles are soon to be gone for good.
There will come a night when she makes her final request for “one more song,” and when she does, it won’t just be the final cribside song with Payson…it’ll be my last cribside song as a parent.
And I know that some of these ordinary routines will become the moments I miss the most.
I think through all the songs I’ve sung at bedtime next to that crib over the past 7 years.
“Never Grow Up.”
“Just the Two of Us.”
“Santa Claus Is Coming to Town.”
The end of an era is coming.
It makes me think about all the “last times” that have already happened and the ones that are still ahead of us.
The last time they fell asleep on my chest.
The last diaper change.
The last youth sports game I’ll eventually coach.
The last family vacation before everybody starts going separate directions.
This time of year is filled wth little reminders that time goes by so fast. Kindergarten orientations, high school graduations, and moving vans outside of college dorm rooms and city apartments.
Snce I don’t know which night will end up being the Payson’s final request for “one more song”…
Or Jack’s final request for “One more game.”
Or Charlie’s final request for “one more chapter!”
Payson and I are going to sing our hearts out.
Jack and I are going to shoot a few more hoops.
Charlie and I are going to read a couple more pages of Babysitter’s Club.
The dishes can wait a little longer.
Because when I’m eventually driving that moving van away from the dorm room in 16 years, I know what I’ll be asking for…
just “One more song.”
The Janiec Reflection 