In the Still of the Night

"Mama?"

"Wha?"

"Mama!" I opened bleary eyes to see Joseph standing next to my bed, Elizabeth a silent shadow next to him.

"What time is it?" I groaned.

"We want to sleep with you."

"We do," Elizabeth echoed.

My weary mind fought the dynamic duo in my bed. I knew, from previous experience, that if I allowed them in my bed, they'd kick me out of it - literally - within an hour.

"No, baby. Mommy has a sore throat. Go back to bed." Nothing short of illness will hold them off.

"Okay."

"Let me tuck you in."

"No. I can do it."

Like phantoms, they disappeared into the darkness of the hallway. I heard a creak, a click, and then silence.

Sighing, I let sleep tug at my conscience.

And then I heard a whisper of sound. A giggle. A rustle. Another giggle.

Getting up, I stumbled into the hallway.

All was dark and silent except the thin sliver of light surrounding Joseph's closed door. Opening it, I found both kids sitting on the bed playing with Legos, Elizabeth's pale face on a swaying body.

"What are you guys doing?" I whispered, coming into the bright light and picking Elizabeth up. She lay her head on my shoulder, her arms going limp around my neck as she fell asleep instantly.

"We're playing," Joseph said, matter-of-factly.

"Baby," I said, "It's the middle of the night."

"It's light outside."

"That's the porch light."

"Oh. Well, can I get up?"

"It's one in the morning!"

"See? It's morning!"

"Bed. Now."

He was asleep before I turned off the light.