The Comfort of a Mother’s Touch
Twelve year old Charlie lay squirming in his bed. He turned to the left, but that wasn’t comfortable. He turned the other way, but he still couldn’t find the right spot. After 25 minutes of tossing and turning, he sat straight up in the bed. “That does it.” He said in exasperation. “I can’t do it. I will just have to lose the beat.”
He pulled back the covers, got out of the bed and crept down the hall to his parent’s room. The door was open. Just before he turned to walk in the room he heard, “Mommy, I can’t sleep. Can you tuck me in?”
Charlie barged into the room, and saw his 10 year old sister Mary standing in front their mom. “Aha. I caught you. I knew you couldn’t do it Mary. I knew you couldn’t make it one night without Mommy tucking you in.”
“I don’t care.” Replied Mary. “I didn’t want to bet anyway.”
“Well, you owe me $2.00.” Charlie grimaced.
“Charlie,” His mom, interrupting the sibling banter, said, “What are you doing up? It’s one hour past your bedtime. You’re usually sleeping by now.”
“Well...I decided to stay up to see if Mary would lose the bet.”
“Charlie, I don’t think that’s a good reason to stay up. Hurry back to bed while I tuck Mary in. We will discuss this bet of yours in the morning.”
Charlie didn’t move. He just stood there trying to figure out what to do next.
“Charlie,” His mom said, “go back to bed.”
“But. But.” Charlie mumbled. “I can’t.”
“Why not?” asked his mom.
“I need you to tuck me in, too.”
©2006 Cheryl Black
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