"I'm so tired. Time to put on pjs."
I gave them to her and said that she could put them on by herself while I finished dinner. She needed a little help with her shirt, but she pretty much dressed herself. I was struck by what a big girl she is becoming and told her how proud I am of her. Then I scooped her up like a baby and asked,
"What happened to my little, tiny, Baby Abby?"
She told me she is a big girl. I said,
"I know, but you used to be my little baby and I would hold you like this, and rock you while I sang, 'Oh, pirates, yes they rob I. Sold I to the merchant ships. Minutes after they took I, from the bottomless pit...'"
This time she sang along with me.
She remembered and sang a few lines.
Word for word.
I melted.
When she was that colicky little baby, screaming in my arms, I would sing every song that I knew word for word to her. Not only in hopes that it would soothe her, but also as a means of soothing myself. And what song worked most often on my little Nordic, blonde baby? Bob Marley's Redemption Song.
"Free yourself from mental slavery.
None but ourselves can free our own minds."
