I'm up too late tonight because I forgot to wash Jake's towel that he uses at school for his nap. Actually...it's dry and ready to go by now, so at this point I'm only up too late out of stupidity.
Around this time of night (anywhere between 1am and 5am), Jake gets out of his own bed and climbs into ours. We've half-heartedly tried to stop this from time to time, but with the changes in our lives these days (starting school, Ike out of town more often for work, the baby on her way...), we've let it slide. What four-year-old doesn't need comfort from the warmth of Mom and Dad sometimes?
So, a few minutes ago, I heard shuffling down the hallway and sniffling. Jake came into the office, holding "Pluto," one of his stuffed dogs (Pluto is also the name of one of his fish. He tends to name everything either Pluto or Max. Of course, he wants to name Annabelle, "Spidergirl," which does seem more appropriate than Pluto...for a girl...), and rubbing his eyes.
"Oh, Jakey, what's wrong?" I asked, holding out my arms to him.
He held out his hand to stop me. I guess to stop me from being worried or overly motherly.
"No, Mommy, I'm not crying," he said. Ok, he was obviously crying...but I let it go. "I just want you to come to your bed and go to sleep."
"Were you upset that I wasn't there when you came to Mommy and Daddy's room?"
"Yes," he said, "but I'm not crying." As long as we're clear on that...
I carried him back to the bed and promised I'd be there soon. When I left, he'd already curled up beside Ike and fallen back to sleep. My baby boy, now too big to admit he's crying.
Around this time of night (anywhere between 1am and 5am), Jake gets out of his own bed and climbs into ours. We've half-heartedly tried to stop this from time to time, but with the changes in our lives these days (starting school, Ike out of town more often for work, the baby on her way...), we've let it slide. What four-year-old doesn't need comfort from the warmth of Mom and Dad sometimes?
So, a few minutes ago, I heard shuffling down the hallway and sniffling. Jake came into the office, holding "Pluto," one of his stuffed dogs (Pluto is also the name of one of his fish. He tends to name everything either Pluto or Max. Of course, he wants to name Annabelle, "Spidergirl," which does seem more appropriate than Pluto...for a girl...), and rubbing his eyes.
"Oh, Jakey, what's wrong?" I asked, holding out my arms to him.
He held out his hand to stop me. I guess to stop me from being worried or overly motherly.
"No, Mommy, I'm not crying," he said. Ok, he was obviously crying...but I let it go. "I just want you to come to your bed and go to sleep."
"Were you upset that I wasn't there when you came to Mommy and Daddy's room?"
"Yes," he said, "but I'm not crying." As long as we're clear on that...
I carried him back to the bed and promised I'd be there soon. When I left, he'd already curled up beside Ike and fallen back to sleep. My baby boy, now too big to admit he's crying.
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