As a parent, I often find myself grappling with the reality that my children do not drift off to sleep by 8 p.m. like many of their peers. Thus, when I encountered the buzz surrounding the book The Rabbit Who Wants To Fall Asleep, which claims to effortlessly lull children into slumber, I promptly ordered it from an online retailer. The rave reviews from other parents had me eagerly awaiting its arrival, envisioning serene evenings on the couch with my little ones peacefully asleep.
When the package finally arrived, I was met with a surprisingly thin volume. “Ah, it’s self-published,” I mused. Upon opening the book, I was immediately confronted with a peculiar warning: “Warning! Never read this book out loud close to someone driving any type of vehicle.” That struck me as odd.
The book was filled with instructions, including recommendations such as ensuring you are undisturbed while reading and advising that you should read it from start to finish, even if your child falls asleep mid-story. I couldn’t help but question the practicality of that suggestion. To add to my unease, a disclaimer at the end of the instructions stated that neither the author nor the publisher would be held accountable for any consequences. I found that somewhat unsettling but decided to carry on with the reading.
As bedtime arrived, I climbed into bed with my kids and began reading. My four-year-old seemed to respond positively to the book, and I followed the guidelines regarding tone and emphasis. However, the repetitive and drawn-out phrasing was grueling. For instance, the emphasized words on the first page strung together formed a puzzling array: “and could right now… sleeping, now… easily fell asleep every evening… going to sleep, now… feeling even more tired… how tired that would make him now… sleep, now (child’s name)… fall asleep… Now… close to sleeping… now.” I found myself wondering if this would ever actually end.
By the fourth page, I had read several hundred words and was greeted by an illustration that reminded me of my college days spent exploring psychedelic art. Additionally, a character named “Uncle Yawn,” who possesses magical sleeping powder, gave me pause. This was not the whimsical bedtime story I had hoped for.
As my son succumbed to sleep, my two-year-old began to protest vehemently. I continued reading, inserting her name into the narrative as suggested, which resulted in a cacophony of screams, clearly indicating her disdain for being instructed to “relax.”
I gave the book another chance the following night, but it was met with the same resistance; both children were more interested in other stories.
In conclusion, if you are considering this book out of sheer desperation to establish a bedtime routine, you may find it lacking in both engagement and charm. It may serve as a last resort, but be prepared for unsettling imagery and a monotonous narrative. For further insights on parenting and home insemination strategies, consider exploring our other blog posts like this one or visiting resources like ASRM, which provide valuable information on topics surrounding family planning.