Aliens and Bedtime Magic

There’s something Magical about being “Tucked In” at bedtime. The lights are low, you’re sleepy and your defenses are down. And though mom is tired and dad thinks no children should not be allowed to have their parents attention post 9:00 p.m., it is really the only time of day that my son opens up and starts talking without effort. Its like a magic wand has been waved and he is now ready to speak.

Take the other night for example. The Professor typically doesn’t divulge information without being peppered with specific questions. But he loves being tucked in; this week the “stars aligned” and he offered up all sorts of internal musings. I had struck “tuck in” gold. Here’s how it went.

Me: “So do you have any homework tomorrow?”

The Professor shrugs: “Yha, I just have to blahblahblub.” He mumbles and its hard to hear him.
Me, surpressing the urge to tell him to A NUN CI ATE his words: “What was that?”

Professor, slurring his words: “I just have to getonthecomputer and go to this thingy and click on that thing and it will takemetothe web site.” He doesn’t use specific nouns, preferring the nebulous “thingy”.

Me (still confused): “And what will you do there.”

Professor: “Study about deep space.”

Pause. . .

Professor: “We’re doing a project about outer space and I am making an alien. I have to make a 3-D replica of him. He lives on Neptune.”

This is where things really got interesting.

Me: “You’re making an alien? What does he look like.”

Here The Professor went off in incredible details about his Neptune alien. He said things like, “Well you know how there’s wind gusts on Neptune between 600-800 miles per hour?” I think to myself, ‘Ahem, no’, but I don’t let on. “So my alien has these protective shields that come up out of his body to protect him from the winds—they are made out of diamond, so they're very strong--and they can rotate depending on what direction the winds are coming from. And if he has to talk to somebody or look at something through the shields then they can become invisible through a chemical reaction in his body. . .” And he just kept talking. About how he has tentacle like appendages that come out of his head with ears on the ends and why their specific shape is so important, the type of leg he has and how it is appropriate to Neptune’s freezing weather patterns. I would ask questions like:

“And what about your aliens arms? What do they look like?”
The Professor: “He doesn’t have any arms.”
Me: “Oh.” Certainly my child hasn’t thought this one through. An alien needs arms. “How does he pick things up then?”

The Professor’s response: “Telekinesis.”

I am dumbfounded.

I had a similar experience tucking in Luna and StarGirl. They told me all about a man who swam the Amazon river and then babbled off the names of all 53 African countries in competitive sparring.

Luna: “Botswana”

StarGirl, brows arched: “Senegal”

Chad, Niger, Mali, they just went at it.

StarGirl wrapped up the conversation saying, “I can’t believe that there’s a dispute over the Amazon or the Nile being the longest river in the world. It’s just always been the Nile for me.”

I walked into our bedroom and said to Mr. Handsome, “You want to feel humble? Tuck in your children.”