I don’t remember any bedtime stories ever being read to me as a child. I’m sure my mother read to me but it was rare with her work schedule and my father’s too. Both working at the Cock and Bull late night. My brother and sisters might’ve read to me out of their babysitting obligations but I can’t recall.

I didn’t read one until I was 39. I can’t recall which one it was I read to you. You wouldn’t remember either you probably weren’t crawling yet. It was mostly me reading while you giggled and smiled. Even at that early age you knew it was bedtime when daddy got home. Mom was always good at having you fed, gift wrapped and ready for bed when I got home. When I worked all the time one of my few benefits with you was I got to wake you up most mornings (still do) and I got to tuck you in. Your mom made sure I shared responsibilities. It wasn’t only my obligation it was my privilege but sometimes I got lost in the industry. You were always a happy baby. Smiling and cooing with me. For months it would be me kissing your forehead and making sure all the entanglements were out of reach. I was always extra extra careful with you. I probably took them out of the room just to be safe. As you got older and more verbal I’d get a “NITE” and or a “MUAY!” when you’d kiss your tiny little hand and throw your baby kisses at me, I’d always catch them before they hit the door. As you grew older you got to choose the books to read. You’d jump up in your bed in your little onesies that you seemed to outgrow every single night, little belly full of dinner sticking out that I’d poke with my finger while you giggled. You’d stand up by the little bookshelves I built by your bed and go “uuuuuuuuummmmm this one! And you’d pull a Mo Williams book off the shelf which looked ridiculously giant in your tiny little hands and we’d read about Knuffle Bunny or the pigeon that couldn’t drive a bus. I bet I read Mo Williams to you a hundred times. Enough in fact that if daddy was tired and tried to skip a page to hurry it along you knew it immediately and I’d have to go back and read that specific page. I didn’t mind. Sometimes I’d skip to see if you would notice. You always did. Then I’d put the book back on the shelf give you a loud smootch on your cheek while you giggled and squirmed. Your vocabulary got better and better “GNIGHT DADDY LUV YOU!”

We’d go from Everyone Poops, Chika Chika Boom Boom to reading Shel Silverstein and shed a tear about the giving tree, we’d talk about the adventures of Eloise, Curious George, we’d rhyme aloud with Dr. Seuss and some Madeline as you got a little older. I loved watching you lying in bed with those giant books spread across your wing span as you looked at pictures that became words to you.

Always smiling ❤️

My favorite book to read to you was always Where the Wild Things Are. Mischievous Max taming his little monster friends. You always wanted me to read that book to you. When I’d get you your favorite part “And the wild things roared their terrible roars and gnashed their terrible teeth and rolled their terrible eyes and showed their terrible claws!” You would start giggling in anticipation because when I got to the last part I’d roar and scream “AND SHOWED THEIR TERRIBLE CLAWS” I’d pounce on you and tickle you with my claw like hands” you’d scream and laugh. Some nights I’d act like I was too tired and I’d only read the words. Then I’d tuck you in as you looked at me disappointingly and walk out of your room only to slam the door back open and tickle you with my claws. I would never skip over that part. I knew it wouldn’t last forever. Sometimes you’d insist on reading that part and you’d tickle me with your tiny little claws and I’d giggle back. God, to think growing up I didn’t want to be a father. Biggest blessings of my life revolve around you and your mother.

I remember reading something pertaining the fact that you won’t know the last time you’ll ever read to your child until it’s too late. I read that and found myself crying. We weren’t there yet but we were close. We started skipping a few nights here and there but when we did read it was always Where the Wild Things Are. We still giggled and I still attacked you with my terrible claws. It’s been a minute but I’ll never forget and I hope you don’t either. I hope you read them to that beautiful little girl I dreamed about. Look at me here just sitting on my sofa crying.

I still tell you goodnight and I love you every night. My job, my lifestyle that I changed just for y’all allows me to.

And when you finish growing up I’ll still text you goodnight no matter how far away you may be and even show you my terrible claws if you still let me. I know you’ve outgrown it but I never will.