So… our youngest comes downstairs the other night at 1:30a. He informs me, “Dad, I might as well be sleeping on lava rocks!” Which, when translated, means, “Dad, I can’t sleep because it’s hot.” Being the kind loving father that I am, I tell him he can bring his sleeping bag into our room and sleep on the floor. He likes that and runs off to get his stuff. When I go upstairs to bed, I discover that my side of the bed is occupied by our youngest son.
I pondered what to do about this all-too-familiar situation… “Do I sleep in his bed?” – No way, I would have to put sheets on it. (An explanation is due at this point: Roxann had just done laundry and Noah is slow getting his bed made.) “Do I leave him there and try to sleep on the floor?” – Why would a man of my advanced years even think about that? I wouldn’t be able to walk for weeks. “Do I try to squeeze in between Roxann and Noah?” -Uh… no… that would be a recipe for no sleep accompanied by grouchiness in the morning. I ended up waking Noah.
“Noah,” I whispered, “why are you in my bed?” “Do I have to go to the floor?” he asks. “Yes, buddy. But why are you in my bed?” “Because, I just wanted to sleep up here.” As if that was the only possible explanation. This kid makes me laugh.
