1:00 a.m. concert

Merritt is sick.

Last night when the humidifier and medicine and my Care Bear Stares from the master bedroom weren't working, I headed into his room. 

A couple of hours earlier, Erin had been in there. She's the baby whisperer. Literally. I heard absolutely nothing over the monitor once she entered the room. And within three minutes she was back in our bed, explaining that he'd had a bad dream, she picked him up for fewer than thirty seconds, then they came to some silent agreement about how she'd lay him back down and hold his hand through the crib slats until he fell asleep.

I'm not that good. But I go in anyway.

Him: Hey.

Me: Hi. You coughing?

Him: Yeah.

And then we sit awake for two hours. In various configurations.

While snuggled in the crook of my arm, he reached up through the darkness and touched my mouth and said, "song." This is just one of the reasons I know he's sick. Usually, if I'm singing, he's either "shoosh"ing every other syllable, or sticking his hand in my mouth to try to make the noise stop. I wasn't going to deny him (or me) this moment.

So I sang. I sang the first song that came to mind. Which also happened to be the first song that came to mind a little over two years ago when I held my five pound premie and a tangle of wires in the NICU. It's the song I always sing in these kinds of moments. It's a totally weird song to sing to a baby. Or any offspring. I know this.

And when I finished, he said "song" again. And again at the end of each non-lullaby. So I obliged.

Here's the setlist:

Throw Your Arms Around Me - Pearl Jam version

Parachute - Guster

Ho Hey - The Lumineers

Murder In The City - The Avett Brothers

Such Great Heights - Iron & Wine version

For Nancy - Pete Yorn (the-way-slowed-down-it's-the-middle-of-the-night-please-fall-asleep-soon-I'm-running-out-of-ideas-version)

Philadelphia Story - Wild Colonials

All That We Let In - Indigo Girls

Encore, by request:

Itsy Bitsy Spider

And while I never wish him ill, at least I found an audience for my voice.