A good night

Blake is in a poetry phase.
Of course, many children's books are lyrical and rhyme, but Blake has taken a sincere liking to real poems, or at least all things Shel Silverstein.
Last Saturday, Blake woke his sleep-deprived father by lugging "Where the Sidewalk Ends" into our room and demanding at Thomas' bedside, "Poems! Poems!"
Thomas responded by mumbling, "Wouldn't you like me to turn on "Thomas the Tank Engine?"
So we're not sure where this literary bent is coming from, but tonight I wish I could thank Mr. Silverstein for a precious bedtime moment.
After baths and other normal nighttime madness, and after Dylan has been put into bed, it has become our routine for Blake and me to rock in the dark in the boys' room. Blake knows it is a "no-talk" time, and he usually just quietly straddles my lap, fiddles with my necklace, and five minutes or so later agrees to go to bed.
Tonight, as I readied our rocking chair, Blake grabbed one of his Silverstein volumes. I sat down and looked at him, a little boy with still-wet hair, a pacifier in his mouth, wearing too-small flannel pajamas, holding a very heavy book and saying nothing.
He handed me the book and climbed into my lap. Then he started thumbing through the pages. I whispered so as not to wake Dylan, "It's time to rock, not read."
(Thomas had read him many, many stories and poems already.)
Blake said nothing in return, but found his favorite: "The Crocodile's Toothache."
And then he sat there, looking at the page, which was barely visible in only the glow from the turtle night light on the dresser.
I caved.
"Would you like me to read that?" I whispered.
"Yeah," he whispered back.
Luckily, I have it memorized, so, barely audible, I recited it to him as he put his head down on my chest and listened.
Moments later, he easily went into his crib and fell asleep.
Good night, all.

The Crocodile's Toothache

The Crocodile
Went to the dentist
And sat down in the chair,
And the dentist said, "Now tell me, sir,
Why does it hurt and where?"
And the Crocodile said, "I'll tell you the truth,
I have a terrible ache in my tooth,"
And he opened his jaws so wide, so wide,
The the dentist, he climbed right inside,
And the dentist laughed, "Oh isn't this fun?"
As he pulled the teeth out, one by one.
And the Crocodile cried, "You're hurting me so!
Please put down your pliers and let me go."
But the dentist laughed with a Ho Ho Ho,
And he said, "I still have twelve to go-
Oops, that's the wrong one, I confess,
But what's one crocodile's tooth more or less?"
Then suddenly, the jaws went SNAP,
And the dentist was gone, right off the map,
And where he went one could only guess...
To North or South or East or West...
He left no forwarding address.
But what's one dentist, more or less?


-Shel Silverstein