A sweet stillness surrounded us, broken only by my yawns. Loud yawns that distort my face. Ones I would hide behind a hand if I were in public, if anyone else were awake. Yawns are catching but he wasn’t having it. His flashlight moved quickly, searching for nighttime treasures, the thrill of exploring spurring him ahead. My plan was failing.
Just as I went to bed my grandson woke up, came stumbling in to my room with his flashlight, asking to snuggle. Tousled hair, sleep-swollen eyes, arms clutching the last bits of his well-loved blanket, how could I refuse? I shooed him back to bed, sat on the edge and awaited his swift return to slumber. 3 hours later I was still waiting. Something went terribly wrong. Snack, drink, books, reminders of plans for the next day, nothing worked. He was just wide awake. I wasn’t. Back and forth between beds, he joined mine with the dogs, promised to go right to sleep. He got sent back to his when his giggles and wiggles became too much. He snuck back in later with a stack books and the flashlight again, wanting to show me dinosaurs. God help me, I just wanted to sleep. His hugs, his sweet proclamations of love surely saved his hide last night. So finally we went for a night time walk.
He was ecstatic. It was supposed to wear him out, let those little legs move, let the chill of the night air calm him. We noted how every other house was dark, everyone was sleeping. Everyone but us. He refused to get the message, instead reveled in the adventure. As we returned to our porch, he headed for the swing, plopped down and asked,”So, gran, what do ya wanna do?”
For a really smart kid, he just doesn’t get it sometimes.