At 3 a.m. my husband, who has been struck down with some sort of tuberculosis-like ailment, snored so loud that the dishes in the kitchen rattled. Between that and the storm pounding against the siding and windows, I could no longer sleep. I grabbed my pillow and the Afghan throw from the end of the bed and immigrated to the living room sofa, where I dozed off and occasionally startled awake all night long, dreaming of informercials. I suppose I'm used to seeing them on the television when I can't sleep. When I awoke for the last time, I heard Erik's voice cheerfully chattering to nobody in particular in his bed, and the wind was still howling like a wounded dog. All 15 pounds of Gracie-Cat were atop my outstretched arm like a wet sandbag, and I realized I could no longer feel or wiggle my fingers. I pushed her off and slowly lifted my aching body from the couch. I made my way into Erik's dark room and crawled into bed with him, asking for some of the big, fleece blanket one of our friends made and brought to the hospital when he was born. I put the arm I could still feel around him and squeezed him tight.
He said, "It's windy out dere!"
Surprised, I answered, "Yeah, it is. I bet it's raining, too. Do you like the wind?"
"I like it, too. When it's windy, it sure is cozy here in your little bed!"
He stopped for a moment and asked, "Daddy's here?"
"Yes, he's here. He's in bed."
"Why is that so funny?" I giggled, too.
There was hissing and gurgling from the kitchen. He stopped, cocked his head, and said, "Coffee pot."
"Yup. Coffee pot."
"Go see dad. Bye, mom."
I held him tighter. "Wait! You have to give me a kiss first."
He pressed his soft, smooth cheek to mine and made the obligatory, adorable kissing noise he has perfected. Then he blurted, "Bye!," grabbed Stinky Dog, backed quickly out around the railing of his bed in the darkness, and transformed into a silhouette wearing footie PJs framed by the door.
I smiled as I watched him disappear. "Erik, I love you."
He said, "I LOVE YOU, TOOOOOOOOOO!"
Then he was gone.
Labels: language, progress, Williams syndrome