I keep writing about walking the boy to sleep in part because it is the one time I am forced to sit in the dark and let my mind wander.
But it’s also because it is almost a little game. Walking a crying baby to sleep is a dance, testing various well practiced feints and moves, repeating those that work (until they don’t), and eventually (hopefully) he will settle down and fall asleep.
It’s still a chore and not what you’d call fun. But if he does fall asleep, there is a nice sense of satisfaction as I sit there in the dark rocking in the dark with his little head on my shoulder, his body rising and falling to my breath.
In those moments, I’m reminded about those days long ago when my daughter would need to be walked to sleep. While I’m not exactly nostalgic about those times, I’m certainly a bit wistful.