Chapter 46
For the first time in a long time, Mark and Rebecca take Maddy’s nigh-night routine at a luxurious pace. It feels like when she was a newborn, when they were doing this for the first time.
Rebecca sings terribly to Maddy in the bath, scrunching the sponge on top of her head while Mark sits on the toilet and pretends to brush his teeth with the toilet scrubber.
Maddy’s belly laughs ring off the tile. Soap and shampoo, dry and lotion, Mark singing into the bottle of detangler, getting the words to “Let It Go” ridiculously incorrect.
When Rebecca brushes Maddy’s long, loose curls, Maddy leans back against her, still warm-wet in her crocodile bath wrap.
Teeth are up next, Mark brushing next to her, foaming rabidly at the mouth long enough to make sure Maddy does her two minutes.
Then it’s time to pee and choose a nightgown—Tiana from The Princess and the Frog.
It is time to give goodnight kisses to “Bao-Bao.”
They march into the kitchen together, and Maddy steers him gently out of the crate.
“Do you . . . Do you still want to keep him?” Rebecca asks.
Maddy nods furiously.
“What should we call him?” Mark says.
“Not Bao-Bao.”
Rebecca seeks clarification. “Not-Bao-Bao? As a name? Or not Bao-Bao?”
“Not Bao-Bao.”
Mark says, “Mr. Bunny?”
“I already have a Mr. Bunny,” Maddy says, indignant.
“What then?”
Maddy screws her mouth to the side. “Bunnysaurus,” she says. “Cuz he bit me.”
“Bunnysaurus it is.”
Goodnight kisses for Bunnysaurus are slightly tentative.
Then it’s back to Maddy’s bedroom for sleep tight hugs for the stuffties. Mark fluffs the pillows and tucks the blankets to Maddy’s chin, inexplicably narrating everything with a brusque French accent.
Rebecca intones the long-suffering mother’s refrain—“Don’t wind her up”—but Maddy’s giggles are contagious, and they all crack up, and they don’t get settled down until halfway through Horton.
Good Night, Gorilla and Goodnight Moon go off without a hitch, and then Mark administers sleep-inducing nose pets as Rebecca ignites Sleeptime Pillow Pet’s stars across the ceiling.
Lying in bed together, they count the stars, make wishes.
The wishes are secret, of course, but Rebecca’s is that they will transform the nursery into a playroom for Maddy.
It is time, finally, for nighttime affirmations, Rebecca whispering each well-loved phrase with her daughter while Mark watches them with silent adoration.
“My voice matters,” Maddy and Rebecca say.
“I tried my best today,” they say.
“I am still growing and learning.”
“I have what it takes.”
I have what it takes, Rebecca repeats again in her head, and then she is welling up, welling up with happiness, so much it spills out of her, and Mark hugs her from one side and Maddy from the other, and it is everything she will ever need, just them, the three of them, a holy little trinity.