BEDTIME STORIES
Author's Note: Mo Willems is one of my favorite authors of children's books. The world would be a much better place if we all went to sleep with a bedtime story from him.
"Hi Neal. Can I drive the bus?"
"No! The bus driver said don't let the Pidjun drive the bus."
"But I'm a really good driver."
"No way, Pidjun."
"But I really really need to drive the bus. I bet Elizabeth would let me drive the bus."
"Lizabeth says we have to follow rules and weg...reg...wegulations."
Peter barely can contain his laughter as his newly transformed CI earnestly lectures him on the fine points of following rules. But right now his job is to con...convince him to let the pigeon drive the bus for the fifth outing this week. Boy does this kid ever love this book.
"Fine. I'm going to hold my breath until I turn blue."
"Silly Pidjun. You're already blue," Neal giggles.
"I know what. Everybody likes to sing. Let's sing a song."
"Yay!" Neal can hardly sit still at the prospect of singing. He loves to sing, especially with Peter. Peter starts to sing as the little boys legs swing back and forth over the side of the bed.
The wheels on the bus go round and round
Round and round, round and round
The wheels on the bus go round and round
All through the town.
...
The wipers on the bus go Swish swish, swish,
Swish, swish, swish, swish swish, swish
The wipers on the bus go Swish, swish, swish
All through the town.
…...
The mommy on the bus says, I love you
I love you, I love you
The daddy on the bus says, I love you too
All through the town.
"That was fun! What do you say we take this bus for a spin. I'll drive."
"Nope. You can't drive the bus! Neal looks at Peter warily, Pidjun, you're very tricky."
"Am not. I'm an open book. What do you want to know?"
"Why do you have to drive the bus, you could drive my bike?"
"It's just a bus! LET ME DRIVE THE BUS."
"No buses for you Pidjun, and you have to use your inside voice."
No matter how much he pleads and cajoles, little Neal remains preternaturally resolute. Peter exhausts all the tactics he's learned from grown up Neal: the warm and fuzzy, the simple solution, bribery, the big lie. All he's got left is the patented Caffrey charm. Time for big puppy dog eyes.
"I never get to do anything," the pigeon says dejected.
"Don't be sad Peter... I mean Pidjun. Why don't you take a nap? When you wake up you'll feel much better. You can lay down here by me."
"OK." Peter climbs into bed next to the small boy.
"You can get closer, put your head on my pillow, he pats Peter's hair. Now close your eyes."
"When I wake up, can I drive the bus?"
"Go to sleep, Pidjun," Neal yawns. He places his small hands over Peter's eyes, scrunches up against him.. head on his chest. Feeling the strong steady beat of Peter's heart the little boy drifts off to sleep.
Wcwcwcwc
"Hi Hon, Neal asleep?"
"Finally."
"You've been up there over an hour."
"I know. One story led to another and then another. I swear he showed no sign of slowing down. Then he wanted to hear the pigeon and..."
"What is that, the fourth time time this week?"
"Fifth. I swear he's memorized all the words. It's quite spectacular for a four year old. I have to improvise more now and come up with new arguments as to why the pigeon should drive the bus."
"And then he looked at you with those big blue eyes and you couldn't say no. Just like with big Neal."
"Something like that. But honey, no matter how much I wheel and deal he won't give in. I would have thought he of all people would be sympathetic to the poor pigeon's plight. Sometimes I think some of adult Neal's memories are in there somewhere and he's paying me back a little."
"Maybe sweetie. But I think he just wants to be you."
It had been over a month since the mind altering transformation, when Mozzie delivered a four year old Neal to them. They hadn't time to process the incredible event as they plunged into this surreal parenting. Peter stepped right into the role of surrogate father, a familiar fit. Small Neal tugged at his every heart-string. He was devoted to the little boy. He couldn't deny him anything. The pride in the way he described Neal's mental agility made Elizabeth smile deep inside. Peter liked smart, but more he thrived on protecting the people he loved. He would be such a good dad.
"Well since you can't resist the Caffrey charm, I think we have to expand our bedtime stories."
"Hmm?"
"Tomorrow I'm going to the bookstore to pick up, Don't Let the Pigeon Stay Up Late."
"Did I ever tell you you're the best wife ever?" he smiled pulling her into his arms.
"Honey?"
"What?" he purred nuzzling her neck.
"Do you know what today is?" she said pulling away slightly.
"Wednesday?"
"It's the day after Neal was supposed to return to his adult self according to Mozzie."
"Well this isn't an exact science were dealing with here. I mean Jesus, I still can't get my head around it. But since it's Neal, it kinda makes sense that the laws of nature don't apply. And when did Mozzie become an expert?"
"I'm just saying... what if he doesn't turn back, what if Neal stays a little boy?"
"I say we cross that bridge when we come to it. The little guy needed us and...I guess ...I just never thought beyond that. I know it changes things for us, but...Honey, are you having second thoughts?"
"I didn't say that."
"What is it then?"
"I packed his favorite lunch today, waved to him when he went into school, admired his paintings when I picked him up and stood in the parking lot with all the other mothers arranging play dates."
"OK."
"But I'm not all the other mothers, I"m not a mother at all. What if he gets sick, Peter? Next year he'll have to register for regular school, we'll need birth certificates, immunizations. What if social services get involved? We don't have any proof that he's ours."
"Whoa... El slow down. We can work something out with the Bureau. I am his power of attorney."
"Yes, for adult Neal. But we don't have any legal standing for the child asleep upstairs. He doesn't belong to us."
Before Peter can respond, he sees the little boy standing wide eyed at the doorway clutching his stuffed blue pigeon as tightly as he can. His lower lip trembled.
"I don't belong to you?"
Wcwcwcwcwc
Peter carried the small boy back upstairs. He and Elizabeth took turns talking to him. Neal listened attentively and nodded as they tried to reassure him. He wanted to believe them but he wasn't a baby and he wasn't stupid. He hated that he didn't understand everything. He felt hot with shame. Elizabeth felt his forehead and thought he might be getting a fever. They agreed he could sleep with them tonight. He tried not to worry, he just wanted to sleep, feel safe and warm tucked in between Elizabeth and Peter in their big bed.
Neal was still sleeping as Peter came out of the bathroom. He was lying crossways on the bed, last night he slept fitfully. Peter picked him up and shifted him so his head was on the pillow. He looked so peaceful now, sweet, innocent and undamaged by life yet. His skin was cool, no sign of a fever. Peter hoped today would be better. Elizabeth planned a special outing for them later. He kissed him on the forehead and headed down the stairs.
Neal woke later, sat up and rubbed his eyes as sunlight poured in through the bedroom window. It took him a few moments to adjust to his surroundings. He blinked as pools of light played across his face. He could hear Elizabeth getting dressed in the bathroom next door. Satchmo padded over and laid his head on the bed.
"Hey Satchmo. You wanna do something?" He climbed down and walked across the hall to his room, Satchmo in tow. He took off his pajama pants and grabbed his striped shirt and blue shorts. He pulled his shirt over his head and for a moment he was stuck inside, everything looked like stripes.
"Good morning, Neal. Do you need some help?" Elizabeth asked as she stood in the doorway watching Neal try to maneuver the shirt over his head.
"No, I can do it myself." he got the shirt down.
"OK." She took his red sneakers and socks from his drawer.
"I don't want them," he shook his head.
"I thought these were your favorites? Remember when we picked them out?"
"I remember, Lizabeth." he said casually.
"Well when you're ready, come on downstairs I'm making blueberry banana pancakes. They're still your favorites, right?"
"Mm hmm"
Neal was uncharacteristically quiet. He pushed his pancakes around on his plate like they were poisoned and took small sips of juice. He watched Elizabeth closely when he thought she wasn't aware of it, then asked if he could leave the table because he had something he wanted to work on in his room. When Elizabeth checked on him later he was reading a book he'd memorized to Satchmo.
Today was planning day at Neal's school, and the kids had the day off. Neal loved the Natural History Museum and Elizabeth planned to surprise him with a trip. Peter said he would try to get free, join them for lunch. They all needed some time together after last night she thought.
Standing at the kitchen sink, she remembered the look in the little boy's eyes last night when he overheard them talking. It was if the light had gone out of those incredible eyes. She never wanted to see him look that way again. As she put away the last of the dishes, the sound of Satchmo barking like mad pulled her out of her thoughts. Satch rarely made that kind of fuss unless he sensed danger. Something was wrong. Her heart stopped as as she reached the bottom of the stairs. Neal was standing on the railing at the top arms outstretched.
"I'm Batman," the small boy proclaimed.
"Neal, listen to me. Honey, come down it's not safe."
Elizabeth is taking the stairs two at a time, Satchmo at her heels.
"Neal! Stop!"
"Don't worry Lizabeth, nothing can hurt Batman." He flaps his arms like's he winding himself up to fly and takes a shaky step forward trying to balance himself.
"No!" the blood pulsing through her head is so deafening she hardly hears herself scream.
In her mind she sees him falling, plummeting to his death, beyond her reach. She wishes she could stop time, she wishes he'd never over heard her, she wishes God is hearing her now. Her heart pounds so hard her chest hurts. Everything is moving so fast, she barely is aware of catching his shoulders and pulling him to the ground.
"Don't you ever do that again!"she shouts. She realizes she is shivering.
Neal looks at her with a fierce determination in those blue eyes and breaks her grasp on his shoulders. He runs down the stairs heading for the door. It looks enormous to the little boy as he pounds his small fists at the unyielding escape route. He throws himself against it kicking and screaming. He won't let Elizabeth touch him when she catches up.
"Sweetie, talk to me please. That was very dangerous what you did. You have to promise me you won't ever do anything like that again."
"No I won't. You're not my mommy. You can't tell me what to do. You're stupid," he shouts.
He kicks the end table near the sofa. The small glass vase tips, rolls and then crashes to the floor. Satchmo yelps and retreats to the corner shaking.
"Oh Satch, come here boy. Let mommy see." Elizabeth gently examines his paws for any signs of glass and finds nothing. Apparently, he was scared by the noise and wanted nothing more to do with the tension between the people he loved.
The little boy watched as she lovingly tended to the dog. Satchmo belonged to her, it was clear. His lip trembled, tears glistening in his eyes. He knows he had been bad but now he cant seem to stop. He doesn't know how to tell her... he wants to belong to her too.
"Neal. What's gotten into you?"
"Don't talk to me!" he cried.
"That's it young man. You're going to your room right now." Elizabeth moved toward him and Neal broke to run again. She grabbed his arm, realizing she was holding him too hard.
"Stop Lizabeth. You're hurting me."
She could see the terror and betrayal in his small face and literally felt like someone had punched her in the gut. She never saw Peter enter the room.
"Honey?" he said surveying the scene.
"Peter, Peter!" Neal launched himself at Peter's legs. He bent down and the little boy wrapped his arms around his neck and sobbed convulsively.
"I'm sorry. I'm sorry." he cried, his face damp with hot tears. Elizabeth is weeping too now.
"I didn't mean... I didn't mean to do it to Satchmo." The more Neal tried to explain the harder he cried, his breath coming in ragged little bursts. Peter could feel the small boys heart beating against his chest.
"It's OK champ. Everything is going to be OK. I want you to calm down, you're going to make yourself sick."
"Kay, my stomach hurts." his sobs turned into hiccups.
"Then let's say we go upstairs and let you rest." He looked over Neal's head at Elizabeth with a mixture of sympathy and bewilderment.
"OK, the little boy sniffled. He buried his head against Peter's neck, careful to avoid making eye contact with Elizabeth. She cannot bear that he is afraid of her. She feels like a monster. As Peter carries Neal to his room, Satchmo comes over and nuzzles her leg, unaware she's no longer human..
Once Peter gets Neal into bed, the little boy falls asleep immediately. He kisses him gently and pulls his blanket over him. Elizabeth is standing in the doorway. Neal is sleeping with his mouth open, his eyes flutter as he dreams. Peter strokes his hair soothingly. The scene is so piercingly sweet and tender her heart aches.
"What happened honey?"
"I honestly don't know. He's been fussy and whiny all day. Then he scared me half to death. He was standing on the railing outside. I thought he was going to fall. Peter I thought he was going to …"
"It's OK, honey. Come here." he drew her close, arms tightening around her. "Some of the stunts big Neal's played have given me more than my fair share of gray hair."
Safe in his arms, she began trembling as all the adrenaline in her body began to dissipate. Tears leaked from the corners of her eyes and down her cheeks.
"EL, what is it?" the timbre of his voice low and resonate. He framed her face with his hands."Tell me."
"I've been thinking of Sean."
TBC.