A ni%ht at the fair with my boys.

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The Kiss

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  It has been 75 days. When I went to bed at night I would cry, every night.  My Mom would begin the process of "bedtime" at least 30 minutes before I actually had to go to my room.  She would give me the countdown. "Next commercial break"  "Ten more minutes"  "Go get your last drink of water" Some nights she would begin to doze and I would squeeze another 10 minutes until the dreaded bed time. Then began the process.  We would go to my room, which was only 12 feet from the living room in all actuality, but it was miles in my little girl heart.  Mom would pull down the covers, tuck me in, give me all of my comfort things and then I would cry.  The more she tried to make me comfortable with the thought of sleeping, alone, the harder I would cry.  If she would just say go to bed, it would have been easier. We would say my prayers together, Our Father, Hail Mary and then all of the God Bless's. The God Blesses were my definite way to get her to ...
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No, not that.

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