Last Saturday night neither Small Boy or I could sleep.
We were both exhausted after a day of sewing octopuses out of socks with small children (me) and dancing for the crowd of Mamas and Dadas alongside the band (Small Boy) on one of the hottest days of the year.
We should have been snoozing before our heads hit the pillows.
But it was hot. Stiflingly hot. And the air was oh so very still.
So we curled up on my bed with 5 stuffed animals and the clunking, whirring fan I remember from my childhood balanced by our feet.
And we talked until Small Boy fell asleep at almost 4 o’clock in the morning.
We talked about school and spelling and why boys don’t like girls who are princesses. We discussed why he would never be able to grow a baby in his tummy and listed which things in Terraria are real. He told me why he wants to be a dancer, no wait, a gardener…or a teacher.
And as I lay awake after he fell asleep, I listened to him snoring, watched his sleeping face, and smiled.