One night when Adriana was a few months old, I came out of the shower to find her crying in Brian's arms. As I dried and dressed before nursing her, I began to recite Good Night Moon. She began to calm down as soon as I began, and had completely stopped crying by the time Brian handed her to me
"Dude, you're like the Michael Jordan of mothering," he told me. I laughed and assured him that it was just hearing my voice and knowing that she would get milk shortly that soothed her.
It's been over a year since that happened, and I'm starting to think that Margaret Wise Brown worked some sort of magic spell into her words. Last night was one of those nights when I was ready for Adriana to be in bed before she was. After reading stories for nearly an hour, and putting her back in bed several times, I laid down beside her in bed to see if she wanted to nurse again. She cried and struggled to get up, and I began, "In the great green room..." Instantly she stopped fussing and rolled toward me. As I recited the rest of the poem, she latched on, tugged my hand to where it would rest on her cheek and ear, and stroked my arm. By the time I finished she had closed her eyes and after only a few more minutes I tiptoed away.