Bugs in the Night



The little voice rips me from my sleep, and not even fully concious I stumble out of bed and across the hall.  He is sitting up, hair mussed and covers in a pool at his feet. 

“Mommy, I saw a bug.”

I look for a bug.  There isn’t one, though in my current state I have to admit that I may not notice if a hippo was in his room.  I search the floor in vain, sweeping my fingers across the floor.  There is nothing.

“I think it went under the rug,” he says, watching me.

I lift up the rug and once again, there is nothing. 

“There’s nothing there, buddy.”

“Well, maybe it crawled over there somewhere.”

I refuse to search for bugs in the middle of the night.  I look halfheartedly around the room and still see nothing.  He is wide awake, and begins to talk about the story that we had read before he went to sleep.  I put up my hand, blink in the nightlight’s glow. 

“You need to go back to sleep.  Here, I’ll cover you up.”

I fix his blankets, which is a very deliberate and important job.  He grins at me from the nest of covers. 

“Thanks, Mommy.”

I stumble back to bed.  I am fully aware that there was no bug, that he just wanted to make sure I was still there and he wanted someone to fix his covers.  In an hour, we will be up for the day.  I try and fall back asleep.  Across the hall, I hear him singing softly to himself.  The morning comes too soon.


One response »

  1. They’re so sweet when they’re young like your son, and they need mommy.

    Glad to see you blogging again, I’ve missed your posts and wondered how you were doing.

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