
Munsch had himself experienced loss as a father. Many years ago Robert Munsch came to Holland Bloorview to interview a client of ours who was the inspiration for his book Zoom, about a girl and her power wheelchair. The book captures the beauty and fragility of life and the undying bond between child and parent. So he picks her up and rocks her in the rocking chair while he sings it. When he comes over she begins to sing the song, but she can't finish it. Her grown son moves away from home, and even then, she drives to his house at night, a ladder strapped to the top of her car, so she can climb in the window and sing to, and rock, him again.Įventually, the mother gets old and calls the son to come see her. She sings it during the "terrible twos," when he flushes her watch down the toilet she sings it when he's nine and tracks muddied shoes and bad words through the kitchen she sings it when his loud teen music makes her feel like she lives in a zoo. In Munsch's book, a mother creeps into her son's room after he's asleep and picks him up and sings this song as she rocks him.

Singing the lines in the hopes my baby would "feel it" was a way to defy and deflect the doctor who treated him like a piece of broken machinery and trotted out a litany of things that were "wrong" with him at an hour old. When my son was born with "unusual features" and a suspected genetic condition, Robert Munsch's Love You Forever popped into my mind.
