What do you need?
I heard him exclaim as he climbed into sight…Mommy? The rhyme ended awkwardly. My blood pulsed with frustration at this nocturnal interruption. Go back to bed! I directed. Then my brain woke up and reminded me that perhaps he had a legitimate need.
Do you need something? I asked.
Yes; a kiss Mommy. He said as sweetly as Little Cindy Lou Hoo.
Man he’s got my number. My husband chuckled by my side as I rose to re-direct the boy away from my bedside to his own den. Nighttime is for sleeping, Buddy. I reminded him. I’ll put you in your bed and you stay here until the morning. I’ll close the door so you don’t think about walking around anymore.
With these gentle words I closed his door and ascended the stairs in my sleep-walking stupor. I wasn’t to my bed before his crying-complaining began. It started down low, then it stated to grow, as Dr. Seuss says in the Grinch. First it was general complaints about the door being closed. Then he opened his door and got back into bed and cried more loudly, creating a crescendo culminating with his favourite chorus, I want my milk! There is no greater call for attention that this one in his language. Milk means Mom, attention, love, comfort. It always causes the same response in me: if I answer his calls for attention at 2:30 a.m. I encouraging him? Will he forever wake for milk or me?…you’ve heard my midnight thoughts before.
Finally, when he would not console himself, I went back to his bedside, putting my hand gently on his chest. He stopped crying immediately. If I leave the door open, will you sleep until the morning here in your bed?
Yes Mom. Love you Mom. Night, night.
He got what he wanted. And I was left with a smile on my face. This is what I signed up for. But I never knew there would be comedy in the night-time exchanges. What a relief.