Bedtime Story

Daddy read Dr. Seuss, “Happy Birthday to You,” letting the boys make funny commentary all the way through. They prayed together while I dozed on the couch. Now I’ve come to join them, but I don’t follow my own rule: No talking after lights out. Nobody minds, especially boys who are used to mommy’s questions having a voice once the house is quiet and I know I have their thoughtful attention.
“What if this were our only bed and we only had 4 pillows and one blanket?” “I’d sleep on the floor,” moans dad. “The floor is made of gravel,” I explain. He’s out of the conversation now, stepping back to hear little boys tramp the tangled possibilities wandering in their fresh minds.
“Only one pillow each?” one asks.
“Yes.”
Silence.
If this were our only bed and the floor were made of gravel we’d still be better off than many people in other parts of the world. I think this then say it.
“Really?!”
I know we’re not moving toward sleep. I know I’ve initiated a conversation I don’t want to continue but since I let slip the contents of my hazy thoughts I share the vague idea. “Many people are always hungry, never knowing the feeling of being satisfied. Many people have to choose between muddy, possibly disease filled water or dying of thirst.”
“I wouldn’t drink the water.”
“If they don’t drink it they will die or get very sick. If they do drink it they only might die or get sick from it.”
“How far do they go for water? Can’t they go find clean water down the road?”
Many thoughtful questions are imperfectly answered. Eventually they let life be what it is.
My hope is that my sons will keep wondering, looking for solutions. My hope is they will care what people they may never meet must endure.
That conversation has ended.
Child on my left tries to start a fresh conversation about Pokemon (safe entertaining topic). His brother joins in. I let them talk for less than a minute. I come out of my haze. “No more talking, go to sleep.” I know I’m being contradictory. They know too, but get quiet.
“I love you D. I love you M.” D reaches over his father who is now fast asleep. He wraps his arms around my neck for a good night hug and kiss. I hug and kiss him back. I turn to my left where M is already reaching out for mom. Hugs and kisses once more. Then we are quiet again.
As the other three drift off to sleep I lay awake. We don’t often fall asleep all four of us in a bed. Tonight, for no particular reason other than love and needing a break from routine, we are all together.
In that dark cradle of safety, I am reminded (as I am almost every day) that I have no idea the value of my family.