Love.

Shortly before Maymo’s bedtime, we played a rousing game of “Uno” as a family.

Then, when the games ended, Coffee and I tucked Maymo in and it was my turn to read the bedtime story. We chose a Magic Schoolbus book (a phonics-based book that he can also read to himself) and, when it was done, I started the “bedtime ritual”.

The ritual is a complicated thing involving many hugs and “secret kisses” (these are kisses that Maymo gives that are apparently invisible and mostly involve him mushing his face against my cheek and saying “MMMMMMmmmmMMMmmmMMM!” for a long period of time while I pretend that the kisses are spreading all over me) and then some assorted words about sleeping well and still loving him the next day and not waking Middle One up and… etc..etc..

Tonight I finished all of that, with extra “secret kisses” on my hand and I was sticking my finger in his mouth and wiping his spit on his nose (because it made him laugh) and then, as I said, “Sweet dreams, Maymo!” he started to cry.

As his crying reached epic loudness and wailing, I asked what was wrong and he said, “I AM CRYING BECAUSE I AM GOING TO MISS YOU WHILE I AM SLEEPING AND YOU ARE SLEEPING!”

Have I mentioned that five year olds ROCK?