Room for My Head

Aurelia ate one orange. Then she ate another orange.

“Why two?” asked Mama.

“Because,” said Aurelia, “it is somebody’s birthday, somewhere.”

Mama could not argue with that.

A little water. A little more water. Wash the hands. Wash the face. Wash the orange off the chin.

“Now,” said Mama, “bed.”

“Now,” said Aurelia, “bed.”

Aurelia did not go.

Mama said, “I will lie right here and hold your hand. Then I have to go check on Cosmo.”

Aurelia held on with both hands.

“One book,” said Mama.

Aurelia brought one book. Under it was another book.

“That is two,” said Mama.

“It is one,” said Aurelia, “and one more.”

Mama read both books.

“This blanket,” said Aurelia. Mama tucked it in.

“Not that blanket. The soft one.”

Mama got the soft one.

“And the first one. For my feet.”

Mama tucked twice. Mama was very good at tucking.

Then came the animals. Eight animals. Maybe ten. They sat all over the pillow like they paid for it.

Mama leaned down to kiss Aurelia’s head.

Mama kissed a duck.

“Mama,” said Aurelia, “there is no room for my head.” She patted the pillow. “And no room for your hand.”

“Hmm,” said Mama. “Who let all these animals in here?”

Aurelia sighed a very big sigh.

So Aurelia did it herself. One by one, into the basket by the bed.

“Goodnight, Bear. Goodnight, Duck. It is your bedtime now.”

She kept Bunny. Bunny was small. Bunny fit.

From down the hall came one small squawk. Cosmo.

Mama had to go. Aurelia let go of her hand.

Mama pressed her palm flat on the sheet. “I am saving my place.”

Aurelia and Bunny guarded the place. Daddy came in and sat in the chair, quiet as a sock.

Then Mama came back and put her hand down.

“Still warm,” said Mama.

“Bunny sat on it,” said Aurelia.