Goodnight Whispers

My little monkey's hit the hay at 8:30 every night.

Ahem sorry my monkey and piggy, E insists on being called monkey, Z insists on being called piggy.
I won't lie, not thrilled with calling him piggy.
Don't want to give my child a complex, Nick hates it because that means he gets alot of PINK.
Well we're getting over the "piggy situation", hey he loves pigs! We can't help what we love right?

Back to my story.

Monkey and Piggy hit the hay at 8:30 I on the other hand don't usually hit the hay until midnight.

Before I go to bed I check on the boys, kiss and cross them goodnight (my grandma used to do this to us) and I'm gone.

A few times a week my nightly ritual is different.

I climb into bed with piggy and hold him close, feeling his little breathing pattern.
Suddenly he's a baby again. With a bald head, chubby cheeks, full lipped, slanty eyes (due to super chubby cheeks), wearing those stripey pants that look like they came straight out of a Tim Burton movie (I loved those pants).

Then he stirs and baby is gone.

Now I am laying with a long noodle of a child, with long licorice hair, still has those full lips and no longer has those chubby cheeks, and the Tim Burton stripey pants will maybe fit like socks.
I lean over, try to find his face in the craziness of his hair, I stroke his cheek.

I'm so in love.

I whisper in his ear that I'm so proud of him, he's so wonderful and end it with an "I love you."
He sometimes leans toward me and smiles in his sleep.
Or the best is when he whispers in his sleep..."I wuv you."
Yeah still having trouble with them "L's"
I cross his forehead, say a prayer and I literaly roll down to the trundle where the monkey sleeps..sorry monkey no trees for you tonight.

There he is, angelic face with curls and all.
I hold him and he too is a baby again.
Fat cheeked chunky monkey with a bald head, Big, Big eyes, holding on to his beloved bear Bennet, working on the pacifier and glaring at anyone who dares to try and pull him out of my arms.

He truly earned his name...monkey.

Then he too is gone in a blink of an eye.

A little boy is now in my arms, with wavy chocolate curls, still has big eyes, chubby cheeks and Bennet sadly replaced by a matchbox car.

I feel a bit sad.
I hold him, kiss him and whisper in his ear the same little ditty I say to Z.
Sometimes he'll curl into me, snuggling for dear life...those nights are my favorite!

That's not every night.

I whisper "I love you."

And suddenly he jolts like he was struck by lightening groans out "Eeeeeaaahhhh" and he proceeds to punch me not once but twice in the face.
I lay very still as if I'm waking a lion.
Heaven forbid he awakens because it'll mean a tough night for both mom and pop's.

Goodnight whispers, who knew they could be so sweet yet so dangerous.