Oldest, 10. Youngest two, 7.
I’m no linen expert, but a pillow case shouldn’t make a crinkling sound, should it?
We had just gone through one of those chocolate holidays. You know the kind; where candy is almost as plentiful as oxygen. The rule for our kids on candy was simple, when it came to eating chocolate, 5 or 6 o’clock was always last call. Otherwise, they would be up all night trying to burn off the buzz. This was particularly true for my youngest daughter.
After tucking her in at the end of this big, holiday weekend, I said goodnight and gave her a kiss on the forehead. She was propped up on her elbow and watched me walk to the door.
“Goodnight,” I said.
She stared – still up on her elbow.
“Lay down,” I said.
“I will when you go.”
I walked to her bed, un-propped her elbow, and laid her head down on the pillow. As she sank into the pillow fluff, I heard a noise – a slow, soft crinkle.
“What was that noise?” I said.
“What noise?” she said, pulling her lines right out of the Kid Handbook.
“There was a noise coming from your pillow. Didn’t you hear it?”
“I don’t know,” she tried. She was perfectly still – stiff as a candy cane.
I put the palm of my hand on her forehead and gently moved her head from side to side. Her big eyes stayed on me as I did this. The soft crinkle repeated with each move.
“Sit up.” I felt like a prison guard.
Under her pillow, I found about two dozen matted down, empty candy wrappers along with a huge stash of unwrapped, soon-to-be-eaten chocolate. I’m sure the street value was obscene.
Sadly, she scooped up all the candy. I pulled out the bottom of my shirt to make a pouch and she deposited all the illegal booty.
“Why do you have candy under your pillow?” I asked.
Her explanation was very simple. “So, I don’t have to bother you and mom when I get hungry at night.”
It’s touching when a child is concerned for their parent’s welfare, isn’t it?
Sorry – got to go. More later.