My youngest son is ten years old. Every night at bedtime, there’s a particular way he likes to be tucked in with four blankets in a specific order — the safari one on just the feet, the tie-dyed one folded over, and so on. Curly Bear needs to be tucked tenderly beside his right shoulder. Night light on. “This Little Light of Mine” sung by Mom or Dad. Then he asks for a head scratch and smiles the most contended smile I have ever seen before sighing something like, “I’m just so happy,” or “I’m just so cozy.”

I sit in the moment with him, peaceful, content, and cozy in my own heart too.

***

When I was a kid, my parents tucked me in every night they were home. The gravity of this gift is not lost on me. I was afraid of the night, so I liked being packed in tight like a burrito with stuffed animals lining the wall beside my bed. My parents knew the drill, and I counted on it each night. No matter what struggles happened at school or with friends, I knew someone would be there at night to pull the blankets up to my chin and kiss my forehead.

My dad always said, “Good night, sleep tight, don’t let the bed bugs bite, sweet dreams and I love you.”

My mom said, “I love you up to the sky, down to the ground, around the whole world, and more than that even.”

It was so simple, yet so meaningful — the final act of every day was being loved.

***

As an adult, I’m an early morning riser, and sometimes I’m so beat at the end of the day that I make the boys tuck ME in before Daddy tucks them into their own beds a while later.

When my youngest son was three years old, the boys were snuggled in against me in my bed. I sang them each their bedtime songs, then told Miles he should sing me a lullaby now. He said, “Well I only know one song.”

“That’s okay — let’s hear it,” I replied, expecting “Twinkle Twinkle, Little Star.”

He took a big breath and broke out in “ROCK ME LIKE A HURRICANE!”

To this day, when we hear that song, I still teasingly say to Miles, “What a sweet lullaby.”

***

It doesn’t have to be complicated. A simple song will do. A poem. A book. A blessing. A prayer.

A blanket pulled up to the chin. A head scratch. A night light switched on.

A two-minute investment that adds up to hours and hours of your kiddo feeling loved, peaceful, and secure.

I’ve never forgotten it.

They won’t either.