I had to turn down the TV to hear it. Just the slightest noise and then a gasp and there was no doubt it was crying. At first, I thought it was Sophie. Just give her a minute, I thought, she will find her handkerchief (her lovey) and settle back down. It continued and so I flicked off the TV and turned on the hallway light so I could find said handkerchief and maybe rub her tummy a few times.
When I opened the door, a little voice, trembling, said, "Mommy, the ninjas are here. Be careful."
And, then, the story tumbled out as he rubbed his nose on the front of my shirt and rubbed my ear (his lovey). Some of the older kids at pre-school were playing ninja today and it scared Bailey. (Funny the way culture smacks you in the face sometimes. They were playing ninja much like I used to play cops and robbers or cowboys and Indians.) He asked me to stay with him, something he hasn't done in a long time.
Sometimes, little things like that remind me that I am raising kids from two different cultures. Two different languages. Two different worlds. I just hope I am doing alright.