Ritual

At some point in the late summer of 2009 (we think, straining our viscous memories), Lisa put the above disc into a C.D. player in Cleo's bedroom, while nursing, and slowly rocked our daughter back to sleep, to a gentle, eclectic soundtrack.

Since then, Cleo's gone to sleep with these sounds in the background at least 500 times. She's heard it in Santa Monica; she's heard it in Chapel Hill. It's played in dark rooms, curtains drawn, in both Virginia and West Virginia. And, this summer, it'll likely make the trip to South Africa.

There's nothing necessarily exceptional about the songs; the artists aren't particularly well known (although Carlos Santana does make an appropriately restrained appearance), and the songs are largely in languages other than European tongues, rendering the lyrics meaningless to us and to Cleo. But mommy (and the designers behind the disc) chose well: throughout, there's a restfulness, a fullness, and a soft presence that are perfect for bedtime. And so, over time, Cleo's not the only one who's come to associate the songs with an easy slope into sleep. When I happen to be putting her to bed, and I hear the sounds lilting in the background, my eyes grow heavy, as well.

If the disc has real soporific powers, though, it's also done neat work as a ground, against which Cleo can grow. A year and a half ago, she was a little bean that we planted in the field of her crib. Now, she sometimes wakes up, stands in her crib, leans over the rail, opens the C.D. player, grabs the disc, puts it in, lowers the cover, and presses play. The first time this happened, it caught me by surprise: I entered the room at the end of a nap, and found Cleo listening to a very, very familiar soundtrack. Who'd been, I wondered, in the room? And what intruder knew about our C.D., or would care enough to play it?

But miracles, repeated often enough, become merely unusual, and then become rote. The very fact that we can press a button and hear Carlos Santana bending notes is, in a way, miraculous. So, too, is Cleo's ability to summon him. As time has passed, though, both have become merely pleasant aspects associated with a disc that forms the center of one of our oldest family rituals.