We read it and read it and read it, over and over, night after night. Finally, Jason said out loud what we’d both been thinking.
“Why the hell are they exercising after they’ve taken a bath?”
We have the “SPECIAL 30th ANNIVERSARY EDITION” of Sandra Boynton’s “The Going to Bed Book.”
The line in question would be on pages 7, 8 and 9, if the pages of children’s board books were numbered. A group of adorably drawn animals is going to bed. They’ve watched the sun set, taken a bath, hung their towels “on the wall,” found pajamas “big and small,” and “brushed and brushed and brushed” their teeth.
And when the moon is on the rise,
it says on page 7,
they all go up to exercise!
We’re talking jumprope, aerobics, push ups. The pig does a handstand and the moose, in checkered green, lifts a barbell over his head. In their pajamas. After a bath.
Hm.
We started skipping all three of those pages, just automatically. I even got my thumb and index finger to grip two of the boardy slabs for one smooth turn. It’s not like he’s really paying attention. But most things for babies are for parents, really. And we’re just not the sweat after a bath before bed kind of people.
The book was too cute to give up on. It was a gift from Todd Bishop, who read it to his little girl. And we’ve made it part of Julian’s sleep routine, which was actually working. But it didn’t feel great, taking that line out. Like we were messing with something classic.
Then a couple weeks ago my friend Leo came to visit from Pennsylvania. He’s a Classics professor, which is awesome, but he also spent much of last year writing poetry about American history. When bedtime rolled around, we shared our problem. He had a solution.
And when the moon is on the rise,
he said,
they yawn and stretch and blink their eyes!
Perfect.
When Julian is old enough to notice that while the floppy-eared dog is stretching, no one is yawning or blinking, I’m sure we’ll come up with Plan B. I’m leaving the dimmer light a little bit lower when I read, and turning the page a little faster.
Sorry Sandra, wherever you are. I hope you’ll forgive us.
Journalist & tech philosopher. 
