Yesterday you refused to sleep.
Asking for food you know I know you have no interest in eating.
Books you know I know you have no interest in reading.
No matter how I threatened you called my bluff.
You know I know you know the threat does not exist.
Well, today is the day I put my foot down, I thought.
So I took you into the bathroom, lights off, and closed the door.
First, it was silence.
Then, a whimper.
And then, you started crying.
Of course, you screamed.
And of course, within 30 seconds we were back on the bed.
But you stopped making demands.
You twisted and turned on the bed, but not another word came from you.
Ok, you’re grumpy and angry at me.
This is it, I thought.
In the future, when I bail you out from the police station, and mum asked where did we go wrong, I would pinpoint to this exact moment in life.
The time I shut you in the dark.
10 minutes later, your breathing became steady and heavy.
Just as I thought you’re calling it a day, you stood up and did a downward facing dog pose.
Staring at me through the crack, upside down.
You smiled back.
Then you lied down.
And fell asleep instantly.
I sat next to you.
Realising your silence wasn’t you being grumpy and angry.
You thought I was being grumpy and angry.
That yoga pose was to cheer me up.
And once I smiled, you were finally able to sleep in peace.
You started snoring.
As I sat next to you.
Crying gently in the dark.