When I get to “Good night nobody,” I always have to pause. What does it mean?!      The thought is far too existential to follow a comb and brush and to precede mush.    But there it is, in black and white: Margaret Wise Brown’s version of Godot.

And anyway, how can somebody say good night to nobody? Is it the same as when I say good night to my little boy, holding him close as we rock in the chair? Is he just something I dreamed up — some drooly, chubby, babbling figment of my imagination? Is it like the sun setting in gold waves across our lawn, the moon rising in a clear sky, the stars saying good night to another day of nothing? Or is it something much more ominous — some moment of foreboding?  A reference to the way the universe will someday say good night to me?

Good night nobody.

Henry smiles at the comb and brush. He is waiting in anticipation for the mush. But I am distracted as we finish the story, as I am still fixated on nobody.

Have you heard the one about the Irishman who walked into a bar?

Ten years later, he has a good house with a great backyard, a dog who is always up for a game of fetch, a son who lights up when Dada enters the room, and a wife who is so glad she went out that Friday night.

6:30pm: Entertain your child with the contents of the tupperware drawer as you switch out those yoga pants for a dress and heels.

6:45pm: Put on eyeliner for the first time in longer than you care to admit.

7pm: Hand your child to the sitter as you walk out the door.  Resist the urge to run.

7:15pm: Enjoy a pair of crisp gin and tonics as you compliment one another on looking so fly.

7:30pm: A waiter seats you for dinner — and it’s not in your living room, and it’s not on your couch, and it’s not leftovers.

8pm: Boldly accept the suggestion of an overpriced bottle of red, because this is the one bottle all year that you haven’t bought at Harris Teeter.

8:45pm: Regale one another with memories of previous nights out.  Reassure one another that you’ve still got it.

9:15pm: After-dinner liqueurs?  Don’t mind if you do!

9:30pm: This midlife suburban crowd just isn’t cutting it.  Remember that cool place you went to that one time, three years ago?

9:40pm:  Applaud yourself for responsibly checking in with the sitter on your way uptown.

10pm: High-five the bouncer as he laughingly waves you in.

10:01pm: Realize you are the only ones there.

10:02pm: Undeterred, check in on social media so the world knows you mean business.

10:03pm: Convince your partner that a shot is the best idea that either of you have ever had.

10:05pm: Reenact the closing scene of Dirty Dancing, on an empty dance floor, to a Drake song you have never heard.  Extra points for the lift.

10:30pm: Hover over your phone, nostalgically scrolling through images of your child since birth.

10:40pm: Back in the cab, negotiate shrewdly as to who pays the sitter.

11pm: Hand over an indiscriminate wad of cash as your partner slouches anonymously down the hall.

6:30am: A bleating child and pounding head serve as painful reminders of how far you have come, and how far you have yet to go.