Nocturnal Nomads

I have often said that, if my house were ever to burn down, all the children would have to fend for themselves because no one could find them.

I swear that I put them to sleep in the same place in their own beds each night, but they can't seem to stay there.

While it has improved since the small piece of velcro days in that their midnight meanderings no longer involve them adhering to my person, I still wish that they would simply stay put.

Saturday morning, Charlie stumbles into my room at about four o'clock. I wake up enough to realize that I'm not making it til dawn without a trip to the bathroom, so I let him know that I'm going to the potty, but will be right back to snuggle.

"I can come wif you to da bafroom. Dat wey I can watch you, if you leave da lights off. I do not like da nighttime wif da lights on, but if you leave da lights off, I can come wif you to da bafroom. If da lights are off, I can come wif you and dat wey you are not alone in dere. But do not leave da lights on because den I don't like dat when da lights are on in da nighttime."

With the sprawling, tunnel-like layout of our house, all that can be said (with great pauses) in the time it takes two people to go from bedroom to playroom, through office through living room through kitchen, into hallway and into the bathroom. It's not even that large of a house--it's just very maze-like.

I always imagined that having children would mean never being alone. Apparently, it also means never peeing alone.

So I go pee in the dark with Charlie holding my hand. After a brief discussion on hand-washing technique, I begin to head back to my room. Charlie stops me and says, "Let's go sweep in my woom. My bed is by da window. Dat way da moon can see me frew da window. Da moon likes to watch me while I'm sleepin'."

After adjusting the body pillow, throw pillows, pillow and pillow pets, I climb into bed with Charlie, who, having the opposite sort of problem from Harold and the Purple Crayon, cannot find the moon outside his window.

I tell him every thing I can think of to possibly get him to lay down and go back to sleep. I think what finally worked was, "It may have gone looking for you. Lay right here so that, when it comes back to find you, you're there."

I may have slept almost forty minutes before the girl nomads began their pre-dawn treks. At one point, with three females and a feline taking up his mattress, Charlie got up and went to the couch.

Smart man.