The nightly routine
We go upstairs. The kids play for a little while, while Kelly and I do various tasks in preparation for the next day. Lay out clothes. Pack bags and backpacks. Then it’s time for a bath or shower. When that is over we read a book. Sometimes, we read two, one for the Little Man and another for the Little Miss. When the book-reading is done, the kids usually climb onto our bed. They each get to watch a show. The Little Miss generally watches Caillou, while the Little Man, obsessed with superheroes as he is1, watches The Avengers cartoon. They both drink their milk.
It is during this brief respite that I squeeze in the my daily fiction-writing. I can generally get as much as 500 words done before the shows are over. At some point, Kelly gets the Little Miss into her sleep-sack, usually with only minor protest. Not long after that, the Little Miss will say, “Daddy, I ready!” Usually she has to yell this, as I wear my noise-canceling headset as I write. Usually, I respond (once I hear her), with “Okay, I just need two minutes.” This is because the Little Miss has chosen the exact wrong moment in my writing to “be ready.” I finish my thoughts, typing feverishly. Then I stand.
“Okay,” I say, taking out my iPhone and holding it up, “should we go listen to rain music?”
The Little Miss waddles across the bed in her sleep sack, a big grin on her face. She practically leaps into my arms.
“Goo-night, mommy,” she says. “Goo-night, Little Man.”
“Goodnight,” Kelly says.
The Little Man generally says nothing, absorbed as he is in what is going on with the Avengers. We prod him and without taking his eyes off the TV he says, “Goodnight!”
“I love you!” the Little Miss says.
“I love you,” Kelly says. “Sweet dreams.”
We start to walk out of the room and this is where the Little Miss channels the Terminator, every night, without fail.
“I be back,” she announces.
And before morning, she almost always is.
- I wonder where he gets that from? ↩