For the past several weeks, I've been singing to pratt when he lays down for bed. It's an old song. One you've probably never heard.
Unless you were lucky enough to be put to bed by my adopted grandmother, Joyce.
I've talked about her before. She was one of my moms best friends. And she was very much my grandmother.
She sang a song that I called "sandman". I'm not sure of the real name. I can't find it on google. But it doesn't matter. Because I remember. Like it was yesterday.
It goes like this...
Go to sleep, little pratt
The sandman is coming
He loves you and adores you
And he wants you to be his.
He'll come down from the sky
And put sand in your eyes
He'll come down from the sky
And put sand in your eyes.
When you put the sand in your eyes, you ever so softly run your fingertips over the eyelids.
Pratt loves it. Asks for it. "sandman! Sandman, mom!"
And he prefers you sing it ten times so he can fall asleep while you're playing with his hair. I don't blame him.
Tonight clint put him to bed. Which clint HATES to do. He says he never liked to go to bed. And so he can't imagine that pratt does.
Anyway, I was watching them in the monitor. I heard clint singing don williams to him. And pratt kept going, "sandman. Sing sandman, dad!".
And I heard clint, "I'm gonna have to get your mom for that. Because I don't know that song." I'm sure it killed clint. Some nursery rhyme chosen over the gentle giant. Ha.
Everytime I sing it to him, I feel like Joyce is watching over me. I wish she could have met him. Pratt would really love her.
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About Me
- hannah
- i'm a girl who likes to write. not a girl that's necessarily good at writing. it's cathartic, i think. and boy do i need that from time to time. i married a wonderful man named clint in may of 2007. he is everything i am not. he is calm. he makes plans. he is organized. his truck is always clean. his clothes are hung by types of shirt/color/size/etc. i'm full of nervous energy. i'm spur of the moment. i can't ever find what i'm looking for. we live in my car...pretty much. i'm lucky if my clothes are within ten feet of my closet. God gave us a precious angel of a baby in september of 2008. his name is pratt allen. he is 2.5 years old.we have another little one on the way. his name is max wesley. and he is due may 19th. somehow i'll be the mother of two boys. craaaaa.zy. i spend my days cleaning house. picking worms and caterpillars out of the flower beds. cooking meals. shopping at target. washing clothes. playing on the floor. reading books. doing puzzles. traveling to sonic. and the library. and blogging. i hope you enjoy our blog. feel free to leave a comment. hopefully it's a nice one. i tend to wear my heart on my sleeve.
3 comments:
Who didn't love Joyce? She was the best and would have adored Pratt. I miss her too.
My favorite song ever...I miss Joyce every time I pull onto my street...this will always be her street...I wish so bad that she was still 3 doors down...im pretty sure Jesus needed her to sing to all the children in heaven that had trouble falling asleep...
I know how Clint feels, every night I sing Don Williams' "Country Boy" to Tucker and before I'm finished he points to the bed and says, "SLEEPY." Like- okay, stop singing and just lay me down...
Oh well, I guess he doesn't appreciate it yet, but I'm sure he will.
I love that you are singing to Pratt. I know you don't consider yourself the musician in the house- nice that Pratt loves it so much. SO happy I got to spend time with you guys today.
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