We are on the phone. It is late. He is tired.
“Go and brush your teeth, get into bed, and I will read you a bedtime story…”
He thinks I am joking. I’m not. After a few minutes, he is still talking to me… I interrupt him.
“Teeth, bed! Go on!”
He laughs softly with surprise, “Yes Ma’am!” and scrambles off to do just that. I hear him shuffling and moving about.
Presently he returns, scooches into bed, tells me that he’s ready.
“I’m going to read you the story, then I am going to say goodnight, ok?”
“Ok… but… what if I fall asleep?”
I smile, “That’s ok, it’s a bedtime story!”
“Really, you won’t think it’s rude?”
“No!… Now.. shhhh…”
He smiles… nods… settles into bed, snuffling and curling up.
I wait a moment for him to get comfortable, and begin to read.
I read softly to him, the story is fun, light, has childish rhymes in it that make me stifle a laugh… he snickers occasionally, snuggled up in bed, his eyes closed. I feel as if I am wrapping him up in it tenderly, lulling him to sleep, petting him.
“…The End,” I say quietly when I finish, “Goodnight, sweet dreams…”
I hear a muffled and sleepy, “Goodnight… night…”
I hang up gently.
I love it when you read to me
And you, you can read me anything