Big, spontaneous tears at bedtime tonight.
“I miss Grandma,” he said, his voice in the darkness succumbing to a wail.
Oh dear, I thought.
He was tired—by design, since tonight is volleyball night for my husband and I’m tired and didn’t want an extended bedtime again (ha ha) so we skipped his nap—so I figured it was a small sigh and he’d succumb to sleep.
“Oh buddy, I know you miss Grandma. She’s coming to visit soon though.”
Sniff, sniff, wail.
“We’re going to go and visit Grandma and Grandpa soon too!”
“And you know what? They’re getting ready to move here!”
“They should live right next to us.”
“Maybe they will.” (Mental note: Ask the neighbours if they would like to sell their house.)
“We never should have left our house.”
“…What do you mean? Which house?”
“Our old house.”
This child sure knows how to break his mama’s heart. He’s probably been thinking about Grandma and all the fun things they do and all the things he wants to show her. I imagine his little brain thinking about this but not saying anything until now, when it comes out in the quiet of the night. Whether it’s a tired lament or not, I know he misses them. I knew he would. I dreaded it.
I tried to jolly him along – “They’re coming soon!” and “You know what?! Grandpa is a really good skater and he would love to go skating with you! You can show him your new skates and what you’ve learned so far!” – but no dice.
He was quiet, and at first I thought it was working. I could no longer hear his sniffles—only mine—but then it started again.
The mommy-cheering-up tactics weren’t working, so we called Grandma. They talked and made a list of all the things they’re going to do when she comes to visit and, for now at least, it’s all better. Until the next bedtime, and the next, and the next. Until they’ve moved close enough to make him happy.
I really need to go and sweet-talk the neighbours.