Parenting
By Jamie Krug
Updated: Aug. 20, 2015
Originally Published: Dec. 28, 2014
“I think I want to go to bed on my own tonight,” my daughter declared during our drive to school this morning.
“What do you mean?” I asked, a little taken aback. Ever since she was a baby, our evenings had followed a comforting routine: change into pajamas, snuggle into bed, sing our special song, turn on the sound machine, switch off the lights, and close the door.
Of course, things have shifted over time. Diapers became pull-ups, which eventually transitioned to big-kid underwear, and now she uses the bathroom on her own. She no longer needs help getting into her pajamas.
That gummy smile transformed when her baby teeth came in, requiring brushing—first by us and then by her. Yet some elements of our routine remained steadfast: pajamas, our special song, the sound machine, lights out, and the door shut tight.
“I think I want to do it myself,” she reaffirmed. “I don’t think I need Daddy to sing Ah-Nay-Nu-Nu anymore.”
Immediately, I felt a lump rise in my throat. She was referring to the cherished song Scott sings to her every night. Each of us has our own song—different yet equally meaningful. Scott’s tune is one his mother sang to him as a child, a loving tradition passed through generations. Mine, on the other hand, was a melody I invented on a particularly challenging night when she was just a newborn, desperately trying to calm her down in my arms. It worked then, and it continues to work now.
“I’m six now,” she continued, “I’m a big kid, so I can do it myself.”
The lump settled in my stomach like a heavy stone, yet I managed to respond without choking on my emotions. “Okay, sweetheart,” I said softly.
How did we get to this point? How is she ready to put herself to bed while still referring to our special song as a verb? Tears threatened to spill from my eyes, and I wanted to scream, “Just one more time! Please let us sing to you just one more time!”
This moment felt strikingly similar to the times when a breakup hits or when you lose someone dear—those moments where you wish you had known they were the last so you could cherish them more deeply. I regret not realizing that those would be our final tunes together at bedtime.
But I knew I couldn’t put my feelings above hers; doing so would mean stunting her growth just as she’s ready to take her first unsteady steps on her own. “I think I want to try,” she had said.
I’ve been waiting for this moment, even wishing for it—the independence, the growth, and the changes. I had hoped it would come sooner. I thought it would simplify things, making our chaotic evenings flow a little smoother.
Yet, it feels like too much, too soon. My heart is not ready, even if my mind thinks it might be easier. Something is shifting, and it’s happening too fast for me to process.
Her front tooth is loose, and that radiant, dimpled smile I’ve cherished is on the brink of transformation. Just this week, she was hurt by a friend’s innocent comment, leading to tears and an unexpected outburst, revealing the vulnerable side she usually guards. Watching her struggle was a pain I hadn’t prepared for—growing pains, indeed.
Now, with wiggly teeth and a bruised heart, I find myself wanting to hold her even tighter—right when she’s ready for us to loosen our grip.
I can sense that something is concluding. She’s telling me so in her own way. Perhaps there will come a day when she needs our special songs again, maybe humming them softly as she tucks herself in and drifts off to sleep.
Lights off. Door closed.
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In summary, as our children grow, they reach milestones that can tug at our hearts. While we may wish to hold on to certain traditions and routines, it’s essential to embrace their independence and cherish the moments we have left.