ROCKING OUT

Love rocking out with the Little One.

Yesterday was one of those days I'd love to bottle up and save forever.

There wasn't anything exceptional about the day. As has become customary on Sundays, I had about five loads of laundry done before 11 a.m. That way the Little One and I could focus on an afternoon of mushing our brains with a little football on the idiot box.

But before football happened, we just spent time rocking out. He had already taken one nap on the day, but the Little One was getting tired again about 11:15 a.m. So I took him upstairs to walk around with him, preparing to try putting him down in the crib for a bit.

Before hitting the crib, we sat together in the rocking chair. Love that chair. It has been in the family for years, and now it sits in our bedroom for those times when the Little One needs a little help settling down.

So we sat, gently rocking and relaxing. He wasn't closing his eyes though. Instead, he was just looking up, watching.

So I started singing to him. And he started laughing.

Not just a smile with some baby noise. This was laughing. The kid was having a grand old time, so we kept going with it.

I remember a year or so ago, my buddy Kai told me he would stab himself in the eye repeatedly with a fork if it meant he got to hear his son laugh.

That was me yesterday. The neighborhood cats might have been complaining, but not the Little One. He was laughing and singing along in his own way. 

We sang In the Still of the Night, Uptown Girl, Mockingbird and, of course, Billionaire. That's right, Billionaire by Travis McCoy and Bruno Mars. It's the Little One's favorite. We don't really know any words besides the chorus, but he cracks a huge smile whenever I sing that one.

Eventually the Little One tired and went down for another quick nap. But not until after we rocked out.