Puny

When I went to tuck the kids in last night, Dane wasn't in his bed. I called for him and followed his voice into my bedroom. He was curled up on Don's side of the bed with a throw-up bucket.

"What's wrong, honey?" - a rhetorical question. It was actually pretty obvious what was wrong. That's me. I'm a master at picking up on subtleties.

"Daddy said I could get in your bed. I feel puny."

Puny. A great word that encompasses just about everything. Have a headache? "I feel puny." Have a stomach ache? "I feel puny." Crampy? "Puny." Legs hurt? "Just a little puny today, thank you."

I snuggled Dane for a few minutes, kissed him goodnight, tucked him into our bed, and went back to tuck Sissy in. While I was with Deanna, visiting a little before slumber, Daelyn came running into the room and climbed up on her bed.

"I'm tucking Sissy in now, Son, I'll be with you in a minute. Go get in bed."

After a few threats, he screamed a little and headed into his bedroom. When I was done with Deanna, I headed into his room and prayed over him, carefully tucking him in and covering him with his special blanket that Grandma gave him. I made sure he knew that if he got out of bed, he'd get a spanking, kissed him, and headed into the Den to talk with Don.

While we were sitting, discussing the day, Daelyn showed up.

"What are you doing out of bed?" I asked, knowing full well that the answer will range from "I had a nightmare" (during the whole 5 minutes he's been in bed) to "I have to go to the bathroom".

Daelyn looked unusually dejected.

"What, Daelyn? What is it, honey?"

"I can't sleep without Daney in the room. I miss my Puny brother."