On the nights I get to put Hayes to bed, we read books and I sing to him while we rock in his chair. Then, I lay him in his bed and sing a few more songs, always ending with a special version of "Rock-a-bye." I sing one verse for him, one for Fisher, and, without fail, he insists on the last one for Marin. No matter how close to sleep he is, he says, "Mommy, sing rock-a-bye Marin." My heart sinks as I pretend to sing to my baby girl:
Rock-a-bye Marin, on the tree top,
When the wind blows, the cradle will rock.
When the birds sing, my Marin will smile,
and fall asleep happy in a short while.
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