While I tried to understand the unintelligible yelling that was coming out of Cooper, the still-awake Peter started getting antsy. Minutes before I had thought that the evening's bedtime routine had gone exceptionally well.
Peter asked if he could lie down in my bed while I helped Cooper. My initial response was to say no. Phoebe still sleeps in there (I haven't carved out the time to move her into the office and the office into our bedroom) and Peter is not a quiet child. The very real possibility of having all of my children awake and grumpy at that hour was not appealing to me.
But I stopped myself. I looked at him and said, "Yes, but only if you're completely quiet. No words. No sounds. Okay?"
He agreed and I scooped up his blanket and walked him in. He climbed onto my bed and under the covers and I kissed him goodnight.
Cooper calmed down. I never did discover what was wrong, but I guess snuggling and being sung to can cure any ill.
Peter kept his end of the bargain. He was silent. Phoebe did wake-up, but it was from an unhappy tummy and not from a loud older brother.
I just moved Peter back into his room. I picked him up and staggered under his lanky, fifty-pound frame.
When did he get so big?
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