The Apple Didn't Fall Far From the Tree.

I don't make a habit of laying down with my boys at bedtime. When it comes to bedtime, I have always ascribed to the Mary Poppins Philosophy: it "is to be STRICTLY observed."

Last nite, though, I heard Freddie crying about twenty minutes after I'd put him down. I went in there - primarily to quiet him down, so he wouldn't wake up Jones. As soon as I got in there, he said exactly what I expected him to say: "I wantchu." Then, "I wantchu to hole me," so I did.

I scooped up the sweetest three year old I know and held him in his harvest gold rocking chair, and then, his cuteness convinced me - for the first time in a LONG time - to lay down with him. We "cuckled" and re-capped our day. He'd ask, "Do you like the train or the ferris wheel? Do you like Dollywood or the fair?" and after answering every, say, three questions, I'd say, "You've GOT to go to bed." He'd wrap my arms around him and say, "Five more minutes."

Since I was enjoying it as much as he was, I stayed - until it'd been twenty minutes or so. That's when I started worrying that he'd wear himself out and not be rested enough to start school in a good mood, so I got up to leave.

"I want to cuckle you," he said.

"Well, cuckle your animals, Buddy. You've got lots of animals!"

"But they don't talk!"

And instantly, I thought of the other Thomas in the family - the one whose second grade report card mentioned how Tommy was a talker - "not quietly to his neighbor but out loud for everyone to hear."

Come Friday, I'd better warn Mrs. Shana.