Broadcast Over The Baby Monitor
Every night, my wife puts my 15 month-old son down to sleep in his crib. While my three year-old daughter and I wait together in the basement, the baby monitor in my son's room allows me to eavesdrop on a beautiful nighttime ritual between mother and son.
Through the monitor's receiver, I hear my wife speaking soothing and loving words to my son as they walk down the hallway and into his room. Before she puts him down in his crib they say Shema Yisrael together. My wife softly sings the words and my son makes a noise sounding like "saaaa" or "aaaaa" to accompany her.
Hearing these sweet and peaceful sounds broadcast from the baby monitor puts a big smile on my face each night and makes me thank G-d for my family.
7 Comments:
You have a very inspiring blog; often helps me to keep what is important in life in mind throughout the day...thanks.
Ezzie & MCAryeh: Thank you for your warm words.
I must tell you... You paint your family picture with lovely watercolor brush strokes on the canvas. Thank you.
Regarding the comment below...I agree one must pray! I can remember when our son was little and I thought I prayed all the time...at least it seemed like it at the time. But, now I pray even more. A parents prayers become even more vital the older they get!
Regarding this post...I always loved the bedtime rituals. A perfect way to end the day! :)
Lovely story, ASJ. I do the bedtime rituals in our house. We sing shma too, but I suspect I'm not as soothing as your wife.
Pearl, Mirty, Pilot Mom, and Psychotoddler, thank you all for your comments!
Dear ASJ,
I come to your blog via Seraphic Secret. I found your remarks about the baby monitor especially meaningful; in my case, years ago, we too had a monitor in my teenage son Benjamin's Z"L basement bedroom who suffered from type 1, juvenile diabetes and who was prone to hypoglycemic events in the wee hours of the morning. When this did happen, Ben would let out a deeply anguished moan, a genuinely terrifying noise, especially in the middle of the night. The monitor broadcast his cry to our upstairs bedroom; we awoke always panic-stricken, raced downstairs through the kitchen, grabbing the honey on the way down to Ben's room. I used the honey to swab the inside of Ben's cheeks thereby raising his bloodsugar dramatically.
Thank you for having posted such a sweet story! Such a refreshingly pleasant recollection making my own just the tiniest bit less painful! I am ...
Sincerely yours,
Alan D. Busch
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