This week’s topic is again.
We started reading books to our son when he was a newborn. We had the routine down pat within days of his coming home from the hospital. He’d get a bath, nurse and get burped and then we three would go to the bedroom.
We’d read a story and then tell him a story. He was always the hero of the story. This kept up for years. He loved being read to. He loved hearing stories. His favorite story was and is his birth story. The night he was born was the most important night of our lives.
Again. He’d tell us every night, “Tell me again. Tell me about the night I was born.”
That was one of his most favorite again statements. That and his favorite book, “Daddy is a Doodlebug” because his daddy called him a Doodlebug so when I saw the book online I bought it for the two of them and then we’d read it again and again and again and again. I still have the book.
My baby is going to be 14 and still likes to hear the story of the night he was born. Again and again, we tell him of the miracle of his birth. The hospital. The doctor. The moment he was born and cried so loudly and kept crying until the nurse finally gave him to his daddy. His dad said something to him, I don’t know what it was and my husband doesn’t remember, but the moment he heard his daddy’s voice, he stopped crying.
Tell me again. Again. I will never be tired of telling him. Again. Memories last forever. Sweet memories live forever.