It's 3:30 a.m.

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I was at my parents' house with my three children.  Even though I loved it there, I was still lonely without my husband around.  I found myself reverting back to my forgotten night-owl ways, typing on the computer until midnight, just to delay going to bed alone. 

Midnight is when I called it quits, though.  I knew that morning would come soon enough and then I'd have to be a mother again.  So I finally fell asleep that particular night around 12:30 a.m.

This is only especially important to know because at 3:30 a.m., when I distantly heard little feet in the hallway and then felt someone sit down on my bed, I was definitely NOT awake.  I groggily opened my eyes just long enough to see that it was my 5-year-old son, Elijah.  "Mom, I can't sleep," he said. 

You should also know that normally middle-of-the-night adventures are my husband's job.  If we had been at home, Elijah would know to go to Rob's side of the bed, not mine.  I am less than sympathetic between the hours of 1 and 5 a.m.

So my response to Elijah that night was a typical one.  I didn't hide my annoyance as I said, "Elijah, you need to go back to bed."  Then I rolled over, and I may or may not have fallen back asleep.

Some time later Elijah said, "But I can't sleep."  I realized I had no idea how much time had passed.  It couldn't have been more than a few seconds.  I groaned anyway.

I thought, in my mind, of the suggestions I could make.  But in my sleepy state, none of those options were acceptable.  Does he need a drink of water?  No, that takes too much effort for me.  Should I tuck him back in bed?  Ugh, then I'd have to get up.  No.  Elijah should just go get back in bed.  And that's what I told him.

Again I slipped back into some sort of existence between waking and sleeping.  But I knew that Elijah was still on the edge of my bed.  I felt myself becoming irrationally angry.  As a fully-awake person writing this post, I can recognize that this whole situation was ridiculous.  I should have just willed myself out of my bed and tucked the poor kid back into his.  But Tamra at 3:30 a.m. is something of a monster, and there was no bit of niceness to be found.

And then something happened.  Elijah, in his sweet, innocent way, said, "I know.  I can bet I need a song." 

Angry, irrational Tamra evaporated instantly, and Tamra the Mother woke up, as if for the first time.  "Oh," I said to Elijah.  "I can do that."

I led him by the hand to his bed and tucked him in.  Then I sat on the edge of his bed and stroked his hair while I sang his favorite song, "Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star."  I got done and in the dim light I saw Elijah smile.  "Thanks, Mom," he said. 

I walked back to my bed thinking about how precious children are.  Even, sometimes, at 3:30 in the morning.