Out of the Closet…and Into a Tent
November 10, 2016
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It was a cute evening. I go upstairs to check on my toddler who likely terrorized his bedroom with every article he possesses strewn all over the floor. Surprisingly, it wasn’t all that bad. He looks up from his book, and requests me to follow him and enter his spacious closet. He directs me to sit, and hands me a book to read.
After a few pages, he stands up, once again insisting I follow. He dives into the hand-me-down tent his cousins used over a decade ago. Little Man begs that I enter with him and continue reading. I’m small, but not so small that I can sit upright. I stretch on my side. My sweet little boy curls up along my length, looks up at me with smiling eyes and beaming mouth. Then he gazes on the page of my utterings.
We remained that way until my husband entered the room with our daughter. The spell was broken. Little Man falls over me giggling on his way out. I clumsily exit, taking some of the tent with me. By that time no one was in the room to hear the profane fragment escape my lips, as the tent opening clutched my ankle. I could hear the ruckus downstairs, and it pulled me like a string around my abdomen.