Bedtime was near.

I could sense it without looking at my watch or considering the color of the sky outside the window.

Despite the upbeat music and constant commotion of the movie, drowsiness weighed down on my eyelids and edited whole scenes right out of my consciousness. This is usually the point at which my husband – having sacrificed a movie with car chases and explosions for my wish for complicated characters and a storyline – will ask if I’m falling asleep.

Which I will deny out of habit.

And next, he will quiz me on what the protagonist just said.

Of course, I will have no memory of what had transpired.

That’s when a barrelling noise rolled down the stairs and into the room.

This time it was my son who was confronting me, though with a sudden and curiously........

© The Saratogian