After Hours

When my husband travels sometimes I get a boy who decides to take his place. The other night it was my oldest. Often it is my oldest.

He likes to chat only when it is so late I am tired and irritable and all I want is to watch a show or read a book.

The other night I got smart. I put them all to bed before 8pm and my oldest started the chat. I was so proud of myself and found I could linger with little worry or stress at the time and all I had yet to do before my bedtime.

The kitchen to clean. Backpacks rearranged. Checking off the chores of the boys. Did they pick up the railroad tracks? Empty the silverware?

I could just listen and enjoy.

Then he said, “wait, what time is it?”

And I told him 8:15.

“Really?” He said, “seems much later than that.”

Because for him all the thoughtful, reflective conversations happen after hours.

Later that night he crawled into bed next to me and said he needed more. Of course he needed more.

I told my husband I would talk with him the following day. I kept my light on low and eventually my oldest fell asleep.

I know I will have lots of time for tv and cleaning and chore checks later. But this is what he will remember most.