A Night of Glee

Part of Perfect Moment Mondays…

I could hear her singing from her room. Thankful she wasn’t begging me back in, I settled in to my first night of self-indulgence in weeks – five recorded episodes of Glee. Not long after, the singing turned to whimpers. The whimpers to tears.

“What’s wrong, Sweetpea?”

“I wanna watch TV with you.”

Before me, the same little girl that used to wander into the living room and beg my own parents for more of their time, away from the darkness, even if it meant watching the 10 ’o-clock news or The Honeymooners.

I could use some snuggling myself. I scooped her up and curled up next to her on the couch. I told her I liked her singing. She said, “It’s my scary song.”

“Scary song? Why is it scary?”

“Because of the guy in the dark.”

We talked for a bit about her song and I promised her there was no one in the house but she and I and that she was safe. I would always make sure of it. Inside I cringed at the idea that my baby was already starting to recognize that people could be scary, and that she imagined a scary someone was there in her room.

She pretended to be interested in my trivial show, asking why Rachel was crying and why someone else got a slushee in their face, all the while hugging me tightly, until I could hear her gentle snores. I considered holding her there with me until the last episode, if I could make it that far. Enjoying the comfort we provided each other.