Sometimes the reasons that certain things seem timeless can only be revealed in the dead of night. I realized this at about 3 a.m. this morning, as I knelt beside Emma's bed retrieving "Goldilocks and the Three Bears", to drone her back to sleep. The simple refrains of "Too Hot. . . Too Cold. . . Too Hard. . . Too Soft. . . Just Right" hold a rhythmic quality that, frankly, stalls for time when one is looking for quantity over quality. These phrases provide both, and require much less in the way of material to remember. I got almost all the way to the end by the time I could hear her steady breathing; my eyes were too bleary in the dark to see if she was sleeping.
I don't know if the author intended it to provide this sort of comfort to weary zombie parents, their senses dulled in the wee hours, but it is sheer genius.
That I can get away with this old story with a nearly 12 year-old is some of the 'sweet' part.
