Maddie and Katie have separate bedrooms but often request a ‘sleepover’ on the weekends. They squeeze into one bed with their combined assortment of blankets, stuffed animals, and pillows. “Sleep tight, blow out the light,” I’ll say, closing the door behind me. The giggles will start before my foot hits the staircase and will continue late into the night. I don’t mind. This is what weekends and sisters were made for.
This was the scene at our house Saturday night. The girls were upstairs giggling and my husband and I settled on the couch for a movie. Eventually the girls quieted down, and I thought they had fallen asleep.
My husband and I were almost halfway into the movie when I heard footsteps upstairs. Pitter-patter. Pitter-patter. The little steps pattered across Katie’s room and back again. Then, animated voices. Were they awake again?
My husband pressed pause, and I trudged up the stairs. I nudged the bedroom door open and peered through the darkness. Maddie was fast asleep, curled on the edge of Katie’s bed, her pink blanket clutched under her chin. Katie, on the other hand, was very busy. I saw a lopsided stack of books teetering on the blanket. The nightlight was propped up on pillows so that it shone directly on the picture book she was holding in her hand. Katie was sitting up, holding the book open so her stuffed animals could see the pictures. And she was reading. Loudly.
“Katie,” I whispered. “It’s time to go to sleep, honey.”
“I only have a few more, Mommy,” she whispered back, resting her hand atop the large pile of books next to her.
“Not now, Katie,” I replied as I gently removed the books from her bed. “You can read the books tomorrow.”
I tucked Katie in under her blanket and returned the nightlight to its rightful place. I crept back downstairs and settled back into the recliner.
“What was going on up there?” my husband asked.
“Katie was reading,” I answered with a smile on my face.