My Shining Armour in the Night
At 2:30 this morning, Sam melted my heart.
A pretty impressive achievement; I am usually far from benevolent at that hour and do not take kindly to anything or anyone interrupting sleep time. It’s as if the act of brushing my teeth before bed unleashes the cold-hearted beast within; which is only locked away again after carrying out the same act in the morning.
Unfortunately, as always seems to be the case in these scenarios, I went to bed late last night. I’m not sure I had even fallen asleep by the time Sam started crying. Now, I may not have many qualifications to my name, and I certainly don’t keep abreast of current affairs as well as I should; but I am an expert at distinguishing Sam’s different cries. I can tell the difference between an ‘I just hurt myself’ cry and an ‘I‘m in the process of being hurt’ cry. I know the ‘I’m stuck, help me out’ cry; the ‘I’m sad because ??? is leaving me’ cry; the ‘he just stole my toy’ cry. I can hear when a cry is based more on exhaustion than the perceived grievance. And, even at 2:30 in the morning, I know immediately whether Sam is crying for attention or whether he actually needs me.
When the ‘bad dream’ alarm sounded, I jumped out of bed and rushed straight into Sam’s room…to find a clearly terrified little boy. Scooping him up, I sat with him on the floor until the urgency of his cries had subsided a little. I asked him what was wrong; had he had a bad dream? And, between heart wrenching sobs, these were the only words he was able to utter:
‘Sam want look after Mummy. Sam need keep Mummy safe.’