There was a pause in his bedtime prayer.
A long one.
At which time I opened my eyes to hear better. And saw my husband had too.
Our son, who had begun with, “Dear Lord, help Nannie and Papa to have a good night’s sleep…” and who was fiddling with his eyelashes with four fingers and who seemed to have forgotten he was still praying…suddenly revived and poured out his last request.
“And I pray,” he said urgently. “I pray that they don’t run out of any underwear. ”
To which we all snorted, “A–men.”