Last night we were nearing the end of our nighttime ritual. We’d read six books (because, as Roan said, “It is such a special night. Dad got home from work early!” that earned him some extra book time). We’d brushed his teeth and swished mouthwash. He’d said his goodnights to Anson and I crawled into his bed beside him to sing the same eight songs I’ve been singing to him for the past five years. Before I got started, though, he told me, “This is a small story moment.” He went on to explain that in Kindergarten during their writing workshops, the children are to write a short story about small moments of experiences they have. He said that he just did one about decorating the Christmas tree, and his next one was going to be about how it feels when we get into bed, which he went on to say “It is like a little nest, so cozy. This is my Best Bed Ever!”
Of course his accolades earned him some extra hugs and kisses and more cuddling than usual, with a back scratch thrown in. As I wound down the songs, humming the last of the tune, Roan sweetly said, “Mom, won’t you just lay down with me for a few minutes and then you can sneak out when I’m asleep?” I’ve always been pretty strict about Roan falling asleep on his own, sleeping in his own bed, but tonight I was just happy to hear him ask, and agreed that I would but only because we’re really close to his birthday.
He didn’t fall asleep and instead kept talking to me about his day, wondering what I’d had for lunch, wondering if I’d perhaps walked by his school during his lunch time and wondered to myself where he was because there was no outdoor play today and they had to sit in the cafeteria which was totally boring and so if I walked by and wondered, well that’s where they were. After a lot of wondering had been wrapped up I told him I had to go, that our time was over, that was it, ka-put kiss kiss and good night.
On my way out, he stopped me with this line of inquiries:
“Who made everything?”
“Eh….I have no idea, Roan.”
“What happens when we die?”
“I don’t know that either.”
“Let’s talk about you.”
Seriously. He tried to keep me there with theology, existentialism, and after that
failed, tried to appeal to my ego. Upon my final exit, I noticed that Roan had won; he victoriously stayed up late by using his charm and curiosity, and by being an excellent conversationalist. I also came to terms with the knowledge that I do not stand a chance with this kid. He has out witted me easily by the age of five.
I just hope he uses his powers for good.