Then he stopped sleeping in his bedroom.
I found him under Brenda’s crib one morning with his pillow, blanket, and stuffed dinosaur.
I almost laughed.
“You have a bed, you don’t have to sleep here.”
“Ben, what are you doing?”
He blinked up at me.
“Sleeping.”
“You have a bed, you don’t have to sleep here.”
“I know.”
“An actual bed.”
Our son had waited years for a sister, and now he wanted to protect her.
He shrugged.
“I like it here.”
I assumed it was sweet.
Our son had waited years for a sister, and now he wanted to protect her.
My mother-in-law, Diane, disagreed.
Diane had been staying with us since Brenda came home. At first, I was grateful. She cooked, cleaned, folded laundry, and kept telling me to rest.
“You shouldn’t encourage this.”
But when she saw Ben sleeping beneath the crib, she frowned.
