I was getting a little impatient. It was the fourth time Bailey had called me back to his room.
The first time, he asked, "Is this blanket clean? It smells good."
"Yes, it is. Good night."
The second time he asked for another blanket.
The third time he asked me to take one of the blankets off.
The fourth time, I was starting to think that this might be nature's way of telling me I needed more exercise. Back and forth from the living room to Bailey's room and from Bailey's room to the living room.
"What is it now," I snapped.
He mumbled something.
"What? I can't hear you," I said my voice getting louder by the second.
Louder this time, but the words weren't clear.
"Good night, Bailey," I said and turned to close the door.
"You didn't say love you," I heard the sadness in his voice.
I lay down beside him, pulled him close and kissed his forehead. "Love you, Bailey."
"Love you, Mommy."