The time on my clock reads 3:37am and according to the wail coming from the wall on the other side of my bedroom, either an axe murderer is in my son’s presence or his ceiling just caved in and the only part of his crippled little body that can move an inch is his mouth.  Regardless of whatever disaster is occupying my poor child’s room, I must get there…. QUICK!  I heard the urgency in his voice, the angst in his tone.  I stumble over dirty laundry, trip over a blanket, finally make it to his bedroom door and take a moment to prepare myself for whatever disaster lurks within the darkness of his tiny race car bed…..
As I open his door and allow the hallway light to slowly creep across his covers, I see that he is still in his bed.  I allow myself to tiptoe to his side, gingerly touching his face to make sure he is still alive, quietly listen for the rise and fall of his breaths.  It is then that I heard a tiny elf-like voice quietly asking through closed eyes, “I need a kleenex please.”
A kleenex.  As in the kleenex that sits right next to your bed?  The one that is within reaching distance of your almost 4-year old body being able to grab yourself????  A KLEENEX???????
Now I hung up my “mother of the year” medallion shortly after my son turned 2 1/2 and started talking back.  When I say “hung it up,” I mean waaaaaaaaaaaaaay in the back of the closet, never to be found again!!  This moment that we are about to embark on as mother/ son will certainly not earn the award back.
Let me take a moment to say how blessed I am to have a child.  A child who can use his perfectly healthy mouth to voice his age-appropriately developed language to communicate his needs to me. THAT SAID, the ONLY blessing that I am at all interested in at this 3am hour is the blessing of working muscles that I KNOW my son possesses.  Said muscles could have prompted independent nose blowing, unbeknownst to me at the time, with little to no movement on his part.  How is it that this slight error in judgement has me awake and ranting in the middle of the night, unable to go back to sleep, and afford me the opportunity to sit at my computer and vent to the universe??
Did I mention that I just went in and checked on him and he is completely OUT.  The 60 second ordeal left him unphased, myself stewing, and his baby sister wide awake following the initial wail or terror.  Ehhhhhhhh.