![]() “OK, but voices need to stay low because Grampa’s trying to sleep.” She heard a derisive snort from the living room where Grandpa was definitely not trying to sleep. “Yes!” all three shouted, relieved to postpone the frightening prospect of sleeping in a strange house. The grandmother detected the anxiety, and in a quiet voice asked, “Would you like to hear a story?” Zilla, aged seven, was used to having her own room and fretted silently about not being able to keep the light on while she read. The grandmother brought in three little cups of water, and waited while sips were made, followed by the inevitable trips to the bathroom. Rune, aged six, asked for another drink of water to delay being left on their own in the strange room, triggering Lennon to pipe up with a matching request. The grandmother found a few tiny tea lights that seemed to do the job. The children squirmed anxiously beneath their blankets.Ī request for a nightlight came from the smallest voice, Lennon, aged five, who missed his parents and his light-up star mobile. A summer with their grandparents was going to take some getting used to. But going to sleep itself, that was another matter for three small children in beds that were not their own. ![]() The grandmother had finally rounded up the children and marshaled them through their bedtime routine like a military operation: brushing teeth, scrubbing hands and faces, changing into pjs, locating stuffed animals that had gotten lost in the excitement of the day. Creative Nonfiction Inspirational Bedtime
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