The stars twinkle against a black sky.

The lights are all off in the neighbour’s houses.

The campfire is burned down and my youth group has gone home.

Tis clearly Eventide… and well past.

My nephews are oblivious to what Mom and I are very aware of.

The 3 year old just escaped his bed and ran to the other end of the house giggling.

Little brother is trying to climb out of his crib to follow when I enter the room.

It’s only 1:00 in the morning, and the excitement of going to sleep at grandma’s house has apparently not worn off enough to actually do the sleeping part of this.

Also, they feel quite grown up after sitting solemnly beside me at my youth campfire and forming silent observations of the group – which they freely shared as soon as I took them inside.

I went back outside, assuming the two sleepy heads that were dozing off by the fire would be tucked in and sound asleep within minutes.

Much later, I came in and was greeted by two very energetic, very much awake little people.

They needed goodnight hugs from auntie Jackie. The ones I had given earlier weren’t recent enough to go back to bed on, they needed another one.

So, we did hugs. We did a story. We took them back to bed. And we tucked them in.

Auntie Jackie needed to stay, apparently. Just Grandma staying with them while they went to sleep wasn’t going to do.

So, I lay on the floor of our guest room, beside the crib, softly singing “Abide With Me.”

I was well aware of the fascinated gaze of a very upright 2 year old in the crib, but all was quiet in the bed on my other side, so I forced my weary self to sing a few more lines to ensure success.

At least if one would go to sleep…

It was almost me that drifted off. That, however, wasn’t the victory we were looking for. (I will go to sleep quite nicely when I’m told to lie down.)

I sensed someone looking at me, and became aware of a face very close to mine. Apparently the occupant of the quiet bed had crawled to the foot end and was peering delightedly at me over the edge.

He giggles. His brother sees him from the crib and grins back.

They know they have me stuck here while they play their games…

We resituate everybody.

Mom lies down beside big brother while I stroke little brother’s face, the way grandma used to mine when we cousins had sleepovers at her house and I couldn’t sleep.

More “Abide With Me.”

Less giggles. A longer stretch of calm.

I begin to hope, in the silence, that we’re winning.

The silence is broken by a distinct declaration:

“My pillow is… YUCKY!”

This, followed by an uncertain giggle, as though he’s not sure if Grandma and Auntie will appreciate his 1:15 am attempts at humor to evade sleep.

They don’t. They envy his pillow. It looks very inviting.

His pillow is definitely not yucky, but when you’re 3 and you’re learning to use adjectives, you practice them in various contexts. Hence, a yucky pillow.

Since singing has failed, and the protests are beginning again, I try reasoning.

I explain that my poodle is sleeping, and their kitten is sleeping, and they will be sad if the boys are too sleepy to play with them tomorrow.

They reply that they don’t want to sleep. (I’m sure they think we just don’t get it.)

Grandma explains it won’t be for long, because morning will soon be here.

(yes, sooner all the time)

A giggling voice replies, “but my pillow is yucky! Yucky pillow, yuck!”

The continuously fascinated grin coming from the crib, and the jubilant voice telling us all about his pillow, is too much.

Auntie leaves the room to have a few giggles herself.

And as all has quieted down in the meantime, she diverted from sleep duty to writing this post rather than interrupt the potential progress being made.

All is quiet now, and I think Mom may have succeeded in getting two of the world’s cutest little boys to close their sparkling eyes and go to sleep.

Now, I think we will do the same.

“Behold, tis Eventide!”