Sometimes it feels like I wait all day for these boys to fall asleep. I look longingly at the clock dreaming of a moment truly to myself. Questions—so many questions. Words—so many words out of such little mouths.
Where is the Moon?
It must be back at our house.
Can I have a snack?
I don’t want that snack.
How tall is Dad?
I love you as long as Dad’s arms. 

My brain buzzes as small voices poke and prod. My body twitches as sticky hands tug and tickle. 

Now I sit on the corner of his small bed singing to them—goodnight. And something strange happens, those little eyes that resist rest most evenings, relent and close before the last word is sung. 

And stranger still, I can’t seem to leave. Small heads that I love dearly. Only in sleep do they hold still enough for me to see their magnificence. 

Just a few minutes more, I think to myself—the battle of wills starting to pull within. To leave and find myself for the few hours left in this day or to stay lost in the magic of closed eyes and open mouths.