Today. At Work

I sat cross legged on the floor in the darkened room trying not to make eye contact with the small child on the cot next to me. I could feel the warmth of his breath on my thigh through the denim of my jeans. As I stared into the dimly lit room, I felt his face touch my leg as he planted several kisses on my knee. I smiled to myself in the darkness. I wanted to scoop him into my lap and hug him, but I resisted the urge. He was not tired and began the “dance” of the restless child. “Lay down and close your eyes,” I told him. The was a stretch of fake snoring before his little legs popped straight up in the air, covered by a fuzzy gray blanket. He tossed and turned, hung his head over the cot’s edge, and attempted to gain my attention in a variety of creative endeavors. I reminded him of Santa’s impending arrival. He asked some questions I couldn’t decipher and tried to lay still, but every attempt proved futile. 

It is quite possible that my presence in the room at nap time is nothing more than a distraction.