It was 11:34 when his little hunched-over frame turned the corner at the
base of the stairs and hobbled into the back room.
“What’s wrong, buddy?”
He had been in bed for several hours. Nothing good comes from a rumpled boy stumbling from his room at night.
Please don’t let it be a stomach virus. Please don’t let it be a stomach virus. No vomit. No vomit. No vomit.
“I can’t sleep,” he answered. And then the dam broke: “I just can’t!” He was almost hysterical now. In those words lived the very real fear that he may never sleep again. He was frustrated and fully enveloped in the panic that thrives at night where worry runs with reckless abandon.
I opened my arms to my pale-faced boy.
“What’s bothering you?”
He crumbled into my lap. “I don’t know.” He was in that horrible limbo where your body aches for sleep but your mind won’t quiet. He was desperate.
I held him while hot tears wet his cheeks. He groaned again, “I just can’t sleep!”
I knew he was watching minutes tick by on an imaginary clock in his mind. Morning was gaining on him. I thought about all the nights I’ve watched https://www.acheterviagrafr24.com/viagra-femme-forum-maroc/ the red digits march on toward daylight where work or school or life waited. Horrible.
“Listen. If it takes two hours, no problem. Even if it takes all night, it’s ok.”
His hair was fuzzy in spots from rolling to find some position that would let his body and mind surrender. No luck.
“And if it takes all night, no school.” It’s the daytime stuff steering the worry. https://www.viagrasansordonnancefr.com/viagra-cialis/ I get it.
He nodded and folded into me. In minutes, his mouth fell open while he breathed heavy bedtime breaths…directly in my face.
I put my head against his, partly to escape his hot breath but mostly because cialis generique est il efficace I couldn’t remember the last time I held him like this.
He’s 8 now. With all the big kid stuff that requires his cialis generique pas cher attention, sometimes it feels like entire days pass before I really see him–how much his teeth are growing in, how long his legs have become, how all the baby fat has given way to muscle, how the little sun we’ve seen has summoned his freckles to the surface of his cheeks.
I had plans before he came into the back room. My computer was on and ready. I was wrapped in several throw blankets with a fresh mug of tea. I so relish the few short hours between bedtime and the baby’s rattling cry.
He shifted on my lap and became limp. His body completely let go and yielded to deep sleep. My shoulder and arm started to tingle beneath him. If I carried him https://www.acheterviagrafr24.com/viagra-femme-forum-maroc/ upstairs, I could have had my tea. I could have written a few lines.
But I held him a little longer in the quiet without anyone else vying for lap space.
I needed this. I didn’t know it before it happened, but I did.
My body started to get numb from the weight of him. His toes grazed my ankles. But he’s still little.
I almost forgot.