We had started reading to Mason in utero. Partly because we had read that it was good for his development, but for me, mostly it was because it was a way for me to connect to him. Audrey had the umbilical cord, I had the soothing sound of my "radio" voice. We also read that music was good, and Audrey encouraged me to sing to him. Knowing the words to a Pierce Edens song, a Leonard Cohen song, and one Greg Brown song didn't leave me a lot of room creatively, so I feigned shyness and the concert never happened.
When he was born, there wasn't much time where we weren't sharing him with guests/family, oohing over him in private, or trying to figure out what was making him tick/cry/fuss/not-sleep. Eventually, Audrey began reading to him first. She also initiated using simple ASL sign language with him for simple concepts like feeding, changing, and going for a walk.
My second time home alone with him (the first was a two week old and a crying disaster), I plopped him down in his crib, pulled out the guitar and some sheet music, and sang him a few songs (more than those above...with the sheet music, my repertoire grows). At first he fussed a little, but soon, I began to understand which songs, and which keys, he liked. The lower my voice, the softer his coos, and so I stuck with the Greg Brown and Leonard Cohen-esque songs.
It wasn't long before both of us began to read to him, during feedings, when he was wide awake and in a good mood, whenever we could manage it. "Where the Sidewalk Ends", "Goodnight Moon", "Walter the Farting Dog", Ms. Potter, and everything else on his book shelf. It wasn't until last night, during a fight against sleep, that I tried boring him to sleep with "Good to Great", the national #1 bestseller of "Why some companies make the leap...and others don't".
I made it nearly through an entire chapter before he fell sound asleep, but within the first few rumbling words of my late night voice, nearly an octave lower than my normal timbre, his arms quit flailing and his head turned tightly towards me, eyes fixed on my eyes. He was mesmerized, and so I had no choice but to read on. The benefits of a culture of discipline seemed to be just the topic to get this freshly cleaned, oh so tired little boy to settle in for the night.
We (Audrey) have been trying to ween him off of feeding him to sleep, instead helping him calm himself into sleep. We figure reading him to sleep, be it "Goodnight Moon" or The Economist or a brochure from the local farmer's market, it doesn't much matter at this point. As long as the words come out slow and low and soothing, just let them come. And if that means a cramped elbow and shoulder and a tickled throat from the copious words it takes to get him to sleep, then so be it, as long as it gets him to sleep.
