Feet less travelled

Evan stayed awake until 4 a.m. this time, and I am nearly blind with exhaustion. Bella fell asleep in my bed at 11 p.m. as I read to her, and about five minutes after I noted her heavy, regular breathing, he stood quietly in the doorway and stage-whispered a request for blueberries and apple juice. I am moved by how respectful they both are of each other. When he’s sleeping, she’s very careful not to wake him; and he is the same way with her. When I delivered the blueberries and apple juice, he came into the bedroom, sat on the floor, and offered me a blueberry. I took it and said thank you, he replied sweetly, “You’re welcome, Baba.” No tears, no protestations, just a kind of quiet communion over blueberries. I sat on the floor near him and nestled my foot against one of his feet. Over the next few hours, he worked his way through a stack of books he wanted me to read to him, which I did, sotto voce, still sitting on the floor. He played peacefully with some of his favorite toys: blocks, the doll house, cars. Finally, just at 4, he put his head on a pillow on the floor and fell asleep, just as my waking-up hormones kicked in. His mother arrived at 6 and they have all gone home now and dawn will arrive soon.