Featuring the Off-Key Talents of Babysitter

I was babysitting for Luke. The house was blissfully silent, the three big(ger) kids snoring peacefully. I had just tucked myself in when his youngest began to kvetch in his crib. I would have preferred to ignore it but I pottered over into his dark room, squinting without my glasses. 

He was sitting up, and did not know that his folks had gone out for the evening. He then casually glances up, looks away, then does a double take. He peers in the dimness. And then realization dawns. 

"MOOOOOOOOOOOOMMEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!" 

Oh boy. 

"DAAAAAAAAAAAADDEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!" 

When my first niece was born, when I was 12, she promptly turned purple in fury at five hours of age. Frankly, what that kid put me through has placed every child after that in the ho-hum category. 

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!" 

Amateur. 

Meaning this: A two year old violently rattling the sides of his crib and emitting air-raid siren shrieks is nothing much. I start off by listing all the creatures that went shloofie, from the cat to the dog to the bird to the various animals in the zoo. He was somewhat mollified, sniffling into my shoulder. 

Now, for the musical numbers. I began with a Hungarian nursery song that is disturbing on the level of "Rockabye Baby." I am not fluent so I got most of the words wrong, but since it is about a squirrel that keeps climbing up a tree and breaking his leg, then the doctor won't give him medical treatment since he's not being very smart, I suppose that's ok. 

Then, the Rabbi's Sons "Rabos Machshovos." It's usually a good choice for nighttime since it is slow and soothing. Then Matisyahu's "For You," since it's my favorite and I know most of the lyrics, although not while I am half asleep. 

Of course, "Sounds of Silence." Simon & Garfunkel were made for bedtime.  

I ended with Dude Fisher's version of "Exodus," but at that point the kid had gone back to sleep out of pure depression.

(He starts singing at the 35 second mark). 

I tiptoed out of the room, slowly turning the doorknob back to its place; I took long, exaggerated strides, like Wile E. Coyote, praying the floor wouldn't creak. But when I collapsed into bed, I spectacularly whacked my head against the wall. THUD. I froze, my terror that he would cry outweighing the ringing in my ears.    

Silence. Thank God. Next it would have to be showtunes.