Gavin decided that last Wednesday was the precise moment he was to learn all there is to know about the drive-thru window at the bank. So, I pull my minivan thru the designated lane and park comfortably as I fill out my deposit slip. Over my shoulder I hear "What'cha doin' mom? Can I do that for you? Why are you writing those numbers, mom? What does that mean, mom? Where are we going after this, mom? Mom, when can I do this all by myself? Where does your money go in those tubes?" Lots of questions and very few answers. I have a rather hard time concentrating on one thing (especially numbers that are connected to my money) while hearing voices in the background. However, I was able to respond to most of the questions in a manner that satisfied most of Gavin's loquacious curiosity.
He was just thrilled to no end that I allowed him to open the cylindrical tube and place all my necessary belongings inside. A flood of questions ensued, of course....but that is bound to happen when one is learning. I had no clue this lesson was to take place today, therefore, I did not prepare and had no lesson plan outlining the steps of instruction to take when teaching a 6 year old all about the drive-thru bank teller. I was just winging it here. And he seemed to be loving it.
It was especially fun when he was laying across my lap trying to put the cylindrical tube back into the outside, drop holder thingy (I know there is a name for that, but my technical description will have to work for now). Then he had to know which button to press. He really wanted to push the button that allowed you to talk to the teller, but I told him it was only for questions. Come to think of it, I should have pushed it and asked Gavin if he had any questions and let the teller finish his lesson. He kept teasing me like he was going to push the teller button. So, here comes my fatal mistake. I told him, "See that thing right there, that is a camera and it's watching you." Thinking that maybe that would cause him to not be quite so jovial about the random button pressing.
My mistake. The mere mention of the word 'camera' incites such untapped excitement in Gavin that he morphs into some weirdo without even knowing about it. The minute he realized that a camera was on him he starts making the goofiest faces you can imagine and starts trying to jump up and down and do little twirls (all while standing next to/partially on me and my driver's seat). Words cannot do this scene justice. I wish I could buy the footage off of that camera from that day at the bank and insert it in here. My creative writing abilities can only go so far. He was far funnier than I can write about. I was laughing sooooo hard. I imagine everyone around the camera monitor in the bank was too.
Last night, as I was far, far away in the Land of Nod, I felt a nudge coming from that 'other world' that felt like a little person that I knew must belong to me somehow. Not being of the highest cognitive functioning ability while deep in slumber, I managed, miraculously, to determine it was Bennett (I must have felt his face with my hand) and pulled him into bed with us. I'm not exactly sure how I managed to exert such physical activity while not even being awake. The children NEVER, EVER go over to Chuck's side of the bed. That's probably because it is IMPOSSIBLE to awaken him from his comma like state anytime he is in the horizontal position. That, and they just can't seem to handle the deep rooted emotional side effects that come with trying to wake their Dad in the middle of the night, only to be rejected by his lack of attention in the wee hours of the morning. This is an area he knows needs some improvement. Anyways...all that to say...Bennett crawled in bed with us for whatever reason last night.
In the middle of the night, when one decides to crawl in bed with us, I never think to ask why. I just pull them in and try to find that 'comfy place' I was just in. But that 'comfy place' is no where to be found...the rest of the night. Instead, I have a little person now sharing my pillow (remember, they steer clear of Dad during the night hours) and my personal space. I'm left with 6 inches on the far edge of the bed. When I attempt to reclaim that part of the bed and pillow that are rightfully mine, I end up getting shoved in the gut with little knees. At that point, I manage a deep thought for that time of the night and remember that I'm bigger than Bennett so I can just pick him up and place him in the exact spot on the bed where I'd like him (right next to Daddy). However, Chuck has already siezed the whole right side of the king sized bed, leaving Bennett and I to share "my half". Chuck has done this on purpose, you see, because he knows I cannot move him to save my life. Me trying to move my dear husband over an inch, would be somewhat similar to an ant trying to move a Redwood tree - it just can't happen.
So, my little pillow sharer and I are facing each other most of the night. I love my children, but not bad breath. It's cute for puppies and babies - but not 3 year olds. And Bennett has no qualms telling me the condition of my breath either. So now, I'm self conscious about my breath and turn my head so as not to offend him. Yet I have to be ever so careful not to fling my hair in his face as I'm repositioning. The whole hair in the face, tickle thing seems to annoy him in the middle of the night and he gets rather grouchy with me. I wouldn't want my sweet boy to be inconvenienced in any way while he is trying to sleep where I should be.
Somehow, I drift off to sleep for a few minutes only to awaked by Chuck kissing me good bye at 4am when he heads out to work. I am excited because that means I can now lay claim to my porition of the bed once again. But Bennett has other plans. He would rather do the 'perpendicular lay' that children are so famous for. Now, I am still in my 6 inches of space, but instead of cuddling little knees I'm being pushed away by little feet. I cannot complain about this practice because there is pleny of proof that I once did this very thing to my parents. So it seems only fitting that I would have the opportunity to experience the joy I placed upon my parents many years prior.
At 6:07 sharp, I feel a tap on the shoulder and am a little confused because I thought I already had a child in bed with me. I then remember that I have more than one child and try to pull him into bed. But I am met with resistance and talking. That means I have to open my eyes. Once I do, I see Bennett, who I thought was in bed with me. He greets me with his sword and asks me if I can read his Bible to him. Well, I can't say no to that.
Before I read though, I asked him why he came to sleep with me last night and in typical Bennett fashion he announces, "I was scared that I couldn't read". My mind, still being hazy with sleep, just couldn't seem to process this. He is 3. He doesn't know how to read, nor should he be scared of that fact. This fear that acosted him in the middle of the night made no sense to me. Yet, for some crazy reason, it made sense to him and he needed my comfort (all night, evidently). So that's exactly what I gave him. I assured him that he would indeed be reading soon enough and in the mean time to enjoy Mommy reading to him. I guess my words immediately dispelled all fears since he responded with a quick, "okay". Or, maybe there never really was a fear there in the first place. He just felt that he must placate us with some reason, any reason to be scared in the middle of the night in order to justify coming to cuddle us. Whatever the reason, I still treasure all the I must endure during the middle of the night while "cuddling" one of my children, for it means I am blessed to be a Mom and make these once in a lifetime memories.
