Our oldest is sick. Last night, I promised him he could sleep with me. We agreed he would start the night in the top bunk as usual, so that little brother Liam wouldn’t be jealous. Once Liam was snoring in the bottom bunk, Jack could sneak down. “What if I fall asleep?” he whispered to me, worriedly. “I’ll come back up to check on you in ten minutes,” I whispered back. “What’s ten minutes?” he asked, pointing to the analog clock that he keeps several feet away on the dresser, and I told him “when the big hand is on the eleven.”
In ten minutes, I could hear that they were both asleep, and so I just stayed downstairs. Two hours later, on my way to bed, I tiptoed upstairs to check on him. He was sound asleep, head on the pillow, one arm curled around his raggedy old beloved teddy bear, and the other arm curled around the clock.
Awww, so sweet!