letters to my roo

Watching your dad rock you back to sleep at 4am is one of the most beautiful things to me. You’re wearing your blue wave jammies and are entirely too awake, I think, but maybe it’s another party night.

Don’t cry, little one, don’t fight that sleep. A yawn, another, a fist to your mouth for soothing. Your dad’s yawning. I have one eye closed. At this rate we’ll hear your sleep songs and fall asleep before you.

Dormite, niñito.