I plunge my hand down into the blue plastic bathtub and pull the plug. Tepid water drains from the tub into the sink. Down the hall, I can hear my husband teasing my baby son about his long legs as he slips his diaper on, then his pajamas. I bend down to mop up the water from the floor, and my husband’s voice drifts into the kitchen.
Michael, row the boat ashore, Hallelujah…
Michael, row the boat ashore, Hallelujah…
My son quiets. My husband’s voice is sweet, and gentle.
The river Jordan is chilly and wide, Hallelujah…
Milk and honey on the other side, Hallelujah…
I have never asked him how he knows this song or why he sings it every night to our son. I was raised a Protestant, born-again Christian, and I don’t even know most of the lyrics to this song. He’s a secular Jew who has spent the entirety of our twenty-five year friendship hovering somewhere around the “not really” category for believing in god or practicing any kind of faith tradition.
Of course, he doesn’t let himself be hemmed in by the original lyrics, making up new ones nightly to fit our son:
Baby E. is a very good boy, Hallelujah…
He likes to chew on all his toys, Hallelujah…
Baby E. likes to stand up, Hallelujah…
He drinks his water from a cup, Hallelujah…
I squeeze the water out of the baby washcloths and carry the bathtub to dry in its place on the bathroom windowsill. I know I am privileged to share this terrifically challenging job of parenting with a man who might not “do” religion, doesn’t “believe” in god, yet spends the last few moments of each day teaching our son life’s most important lesson: We are not owed anything. Give thanks, daily, for all of the blessings this universe brings. Hallelujah. Hallelujah. Hallelujah.
Oh, I love this! I just love it when men sing to babies. There’s something so sweet and vulnerable about it. My husband sings sea shanties to my little boy — no idea why. But it doesn’t really matter, right?
Lol. Sea shanties! Love it. I love the way music can make memories…
This will be a challenge for you as your son grows older. But for now, I am happy that you get to hear bits and pieces of the milk and honey.
Don’t I know it, Donna… I’m only at the beginning of this journey, and for now, I can only hope my son feels rich in love and develops a strong belief in gratitude, spirit, hope, and kindness.
I’m not sure how you did it, but you captured your husband’s voice, making me hear the song and the deep rhythm like you probably heard it from the next room. Very nice crafting. 🙂
Ruth
Wow, thanks Ruth.� I worked hard on that, but wasn’t too sure how successful I was…� 🙂
I hear the singing and love along with the questions and stirrings. You have captured the sweetness and complexities.
Yes, you’ve got it! The love is the biggest thing here. Thanks so much!
Both my daughter and son-in-law sing known songs & then create words that fit them just as you described. It’s funny now to hear the 3 year old singing in the tune I know, with new words! Your post is such a lovely capture of that moment. It almost seemed you shared a photograph I could picture it so clearly. Beautiful memory, beautiful writing.
I love the image of you cleaning up the bath beside the image of him singing sweetly to your son.
Images of you taking care of business and your hubby basking in the glory of your son. Beautiful.