As a parent, I often find myself wishing my kids would settle down and sleep by 8 p.m., unlike most of their peers. So, when I stumbled upon the buzz surrounding the book, The Rabbit Who Wants To Fall Asleep, which promises to help children drift off to dreamland, I couldn’t resist ordering a copy from Amazon. The rave reviews from fellow parents had me eagerly awaiting the delivery, dreaming of peaceful evenings on the couch while my kids peacefully slumbered upstairs.
When that slender envelope finally arrived, I excitedly ripped it open, only to be greeted by a surprisingly thin book. “Ah, self-published,” I thought. As I flipped to the first page, I encountered a rather peculiar “instructions for the reader” section. The bold warning at the top caught my attention: “Warning! Never read this book out loud close to someone driving any type of vehicle.” How strange!
The instructions went on to suggest various tips for reading, like ensuring you’re undisturbed and finishing the story even if your child falls asleep first. I chuckled at the thought—there’s little chance I would finish if my child snoozed before the last page. To top it off, there was a disclaimer stating that the author and publisher bear no responsibility for the outcomes. Now I was feeling uneasy, but I pushed those feelings aside, determined to give it a shot with my kids later that night.
As bedtime rolled around, I snuggled up with my children, ready to read. My four-year-old seemed genuinely tired, and it appeared the book might actually work. I followed the reading directions carefully, emphasizing the bolded words and switching to a fairy tale voice as instructed. However, the first page consisted of a seemingly endless loop of phrases that went something like this: “and could right now… sleeping, now… easily fell asleep every evening… going to sleep, now…”—and this continued for quite some time.
By the time I reached the fourth page, I had read nearly 1,000 words, and the illustrations felt reminiscent of the surreal art I used to enjoy in college. I encountered a character named “Uncle Yawn,” who possesses magical sleeping powder. Yikes! The concept was unsettling to say the least.
As my son dozed off, my younger child began to protest, yelling “stop reading!” at the top of her lungs. I attempted to use her name in the story, inserting “Frankie” as the narrative prompted me to encourage relaxation. “Relax your feet, Frankie. Roger and you do so now…” But all I got in response was further chaos from my spirited toddler, who clearly wasn’t keen on the idea of relaxation.
Determined, I tried again the following night. Yet this time, neither child fell asleep, and they clamored for a different story entirely, like Jack and the Beanstalk, long before I reached page three.
In summary, if you’re open to the idea of hypnosis and desperate to find a solution for bedtime woes, you might consider giving this book a try. But be forewarned: it lacks an engaging narrative and features some rather eerie illustrations. For more information on pregnancy and home insemination, check out this excellent resource here. And if you’re interested in enhancing your fertility journey, you can find helpful advice here. For those exploring home insemination options, visit this insightful post here.