Sleeper conversations

Bedtime remains one of my favorite moments of the day. Oh, I know what you're thinking. It's because after a long, exhausting day, the promise of a few peaceful moments to myself are at last just minutes away. The light at the end of the tunnel grows brighter as the kids' bedroom lights go off.

And yes, that's part of it. But even more than that, I love the end of day conversations with AJ.

"Mom, what was your favorite part of the day?" He's gotten good at beating me to the punch, asking the question I usually ask him. He then guesses, "is it right now when you're snuggling with your children?"

My future politician's next move usually involves turning up the charm, giving me a hug and declaring that I'm one of his favorite girls.

This is actually a fairly new development, and a bit of a downgrade for me. I used to be the best mom in the whole world. Now I'm categorized as one of his favorite girls. The first time he announced this, I had to question who else was on this list.

"Sydney."

"No girlfriends on this list?" I couldn't resist teasing.

"No!"

Sometimes, our conversations while lying in the dark, reveal issues that have clearly been weighing on his mind. Such was the case one night last week, after a less than stellar hockey game.

"On the way home tonight, Dad and I had a talk," he told me, his voice was very serious. "Dad said I wasn't trying as hard as I could have. (Pause) Well, I thought about it. (Another pause) And I really was trying as hard as I could."

Another night: "Mom, I've decided I'm still gonna say 'gonna'." (I'd been correcting him on that earlier in the evening.) "But I won't say 'ain't' because I think that sounds stupid, too."

Other bedtime conversations involve whatever thought pops into his head that he figures has stall tactic potential.

"I can smell the soap you use," he told me one recent night. "It's like flowers. Mixed with starfish."

What?

I don't know what starfish smell like, let alone what a starfish/flower combo scent might be. And then a few days later I happened to glance at the soap container's label.

And I don't think I want to know what inspired his thought process a couple nights ago. A commercial? A TV show? The comments made by the fake Bob Harper character when I'm working out to the Biggest Loser on XBox?

"Mom, can girls get abs?"

"Yes."

"Did you ever get any?"

"Go to sleep."

"I love you, Mom."

"I love you, too."

And that's why I will continue to snuggle with him at bedtime, for as long as he lets me. For as long as I remain one of his favorite girls.