Our daily schedule is a bit different than a "normal family" in that I almost never put our kids to bed.
It was decided long ago that I would begin work around that time, and Josh would take over the nightly duties of brushing teeth, reading stories, finding Dylan the dog, and tucking in.
Each night after being tucked in, Kayden will sneak down to the computer and ask me to come up to tell him a story and promises one in return. Knowing full well it is his way of stalling, I often concede. There is something sacred about bedtime. The truth of what is going on inside his head and heart always come to the surface in the darkness of his room. Vulnerabilities are disclosed, so I hate to miss that special time.
The story he desires could be anything. A certain toy he played with that evening and when it was purchased, the last time he spent the night at Grandmas, something that happened between Bryce and him.
I always start my story with "One there was a little boy named Kayden, and he....."
At the end of my third tale, I ask him to tell me his story as promised. He habitually shirks responsibility, and promises indulgance another evening.
Tonight, however, he obliged.
"One, there was a big girl named Mommy, who loved to buy clothes from Gymboree and take lots of pictures of Kayden."
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