So it was last night when Josh and I sat for Jack and Tom. Tom was asleep but Jack was wide awake, palms together, thinking about our Saturday pajama party - or I should say planning the food.
"We love hot dogs. It's our favorite thing" Jack spoke for his brother. "I want mustard, ketchup, and relish." I nodded. Jack is still thinking. "Chips, I think, and strawberries and cream."
"Get your pillow, now. Time to rest." A suggestion.
"But there is one more thing."
"What?"
" I can't say it out loud."
With that Jack jumped out of his bed, tiptoed to Tom's bunk where I was sitting, and took both my hands in his little ones. He put his mouth up close to my ear and whispered.
"What?"
"You know." Shy look.
"I can't hear you , it could be anything."
"Soda." Grinning now. "We want to sneak soda."
"Both of you?"
"All of us. Don't tell Pops."
When Jack was down, that perfect smile on his sleeping face, I told Josh, who is fourteen, about Saturday's menu. He said he thinks I am a great cook. I can't think what he has eaten at my house. Pasta? Roast beef and veggies? The famous Mac&Cheese? "Last time we were here," he explains. "Hot dogs! Love 'em!"
