I have a friend that works nights. A lot of times, I call her and chat after the kids have gone to bed, because it's nice to get a word in without hearing "Mooom" in the background. However, I needed to go into the garage to call her as everyone was asleep, and well, I knew I'd wake someone up if I stayed inside.
Going into the garage was complicated by the fact that the light was burned out. Lest I punctuate my speech with screams of horror should something decide to crawl over my foot, I decided I needed my trusty flashlight. The flashlight was in Nolan and Ben's room, having been borrowed the night before when thunder started rumbling.
So I tiptoe into their room, and jump about a foot into the air when Nolan sits straight up in bed, awake. And looking sheepish. "Okay, you caught me."
(Now, I know what may be going through some people's minds right now, but rest assured, it wasn't anything like that. Shame on you.)
"Caught you? Doing...?" He whips out the flashlight, followed by our copy of the new Harry Potter. "I'm reading with the flashlight under the covers, and I can't get comfortable."
"Sweetie, I'm not going to scold you for reading. It's not like you have someplace to be tomorrow, is it? Come on, I'm gonna be up for a while, read in the living room, with the light on, like a civilized person."
It was one of those moments when you think that maybe you do have a handle on this gig. I have always hoped that they all develop a love of reading, not just because I love to, but because it's a good gift to have. Seeing him so enchanted with a book as opposed to what I usually see him enchanted with (starts with N and ends in 'tendo') was sweet.
He made it until 1 a.m. before he decided that he'd had enough. Which is much longer than I made it in the garage talking to my friend. The conversation was good, but the garage--way too hot.
Baked cricket, anyone?