Throw the Stars

We spent last week in Savannah with the Family.

When we're there, we sleep in Chris' old bedroom, the room he slept in as a kid.  At some point in his odd little journey through adolescence he hung up glow-in-the-dark stars on his wall and ceiling.  For us, it's just part of the eccentricities of Savannah, but for the Boy, it's something entirely magical.

There's no rocking chair and the room isn't as dark as the Boy's room at home is, so when we tried to get him to sleep, I lay down on the bed with him.  We cuddle and I rub his back and he tells me all about his day thus far.  Part of his narration includes his observation of the stars.

"Mama!  Stars!  Stars on ceiling!  Stars on wall!"
"Yep, baby.  Daddy hung up the stars when he was little.  Try to be quiet and go to sleep."
"Mama, Daddy hung up stars?"
"Yep, sweets.  Try to sleep."

And he quiets down for a little bit.  He tells me that now he has CHICK!  And he thanks me for buying it.  He fiddles with his woobie until he finds the tag, which he proceeds to rub across his nose.  He tries to be still.   He tries to be quiet.  He tries to go to sleep.

And then.

"Mama!  (he calls himself by name) catch stars!"
"Are you catching the stars?  Good job.  Try to go to sleep, sweetie."

And he really does try.  He rolls to his tummy and asks me to rub his back some more.  He rubs his eyes and pulls on his face, for he is very tired.  He piles his woobie up on top of his head.

From under the woobie, I hear:
"Mama (he calls himself by name) THROW stars..."

And as he fades to sleep, I think, yes, baby...you throw all the stars.