Lately, I've sat down with Little Bitty to read books before bedtime and she points to the same one, over and over. And, cruel as you may think me, I decline to read it to her then. You see, it's a push-the-button-and-a-song-plays book about Noah's ark, and, as she's been reminding me after hearing it so much from my mouth,
" 'Dis book is too noisy, Mommy."
And noisy it is. Which is why I don't read it when we're trying to get our tiny molar-getting-no-sleeping daughter to bed. Her soul and body need calming and rest before being coaxed to sleep, and thus, the book does not have a place in that moment.
Yesterday, B took A for a run in the stroller before dinner, and I relished in the sound of silence while they were gone. I drank it up--and then realized that I too must have been letting noise get to me lately.
It's not a songbook, but it's a myriad of other things. Worries, housework, work, plans, my phone, twitter, facebook, money, yardwork, back pain, and *gasp* my blog.
It's becoming too loud, all this noise.
I have thoughts of just turning it off sometimes. Deleting accounts, especially...just with a click of a button. But I'm afraid it might be too quiet then. I'm afraid I'm miss it. I'm afraid that I might then realize how much time I've spent doing these noisy things and how they aren't important.
Can't I just turn the sound down?
Somehow, I don't think it works that way.
B returned from that run last night and softly whispered, "we're home...." when he and Bitty rolled in. I watched him grin at me and pull open the stroller shade. There she was, fast asleep at the wee hour of 6 pm. Maybe I shouldn't be so surprised, though.
Nothing is more restful than our Father's footsteps next to us.