a morning conversation (soLs)
For the past few years, storms have brought an extra body into our bed at night. The good news is, when Sam turned six, he proclaimed:
“Six year olds aren’t afraid of storms.”
We’ve been waiting to test the theory. Late last night, a storm rolled in, and soon Sam snuggled under my covers, took over my pillow, and whispered, “I need you, Mom.” It’s because he says sweet things like this that I don’t kick him out.
The next morning, with my muscles sore from being sandwiched between two guys all night — one big and one small — I asked Sam, “Did you have a bad dream last night?”
He looked up from his cereal bowl. “Nope.”
I stretched my back. “Were you afraid of the storm?”
He dropped his spoon into his bowl and widened his blue eyes. “Mom,” he said so I could hear the eye roll, “I told you six year olds aren’t afraid of storms.”
Really. I contained my eye roll and asked, “So, why were you in my bed last night?”
He smiled at me. “Ohhh, I heard the storm and figured you missed me.”
Really. My only option was to smile back. I’m one lucky momma.
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