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     Alison turned off the bathroom light after brushing her teeth then crawled in bed with Lucky.

     In the next room, their son yelled out, 'Mommy!'

     She flipped the covers off and landed them on top of the book that Eric for days has kept his attention.

     She opened the door to his room then turned on the light.

     'Mommy, I need to drink some water.'  He cleared his throat.

     'Hang on a second.'  She stepped into the hall bathroom.  'We have to go to bed, it's a big day tomorrow.'

     'I can't sleep, Mommy.  I keep thinking about the game.  I'm going to smack it out of the ballpark!  Crrrack!’

     'Here you go.' She handed the green, plastic cup to him.  'Don't think about it too much, you'll start getting butterflies in your stomach.'

     'Butterflies?' he asked, before he took another drink.

     'Yeah, your stomach tightens up, your hands become clammy, your mouth dries up.'

     'I'm ready, Mommy.  I already have my clothes and bat and glove and shoes; I'm ready.'  He handed the empty cup over.

     'I know you are.  You will play great.'  She leaned over and kissed him on the forehead.  'Good night.'

     'Good night,' he whispered.

     She rocked the waves on his race car waterbed when she stood, walked to the light switch, then clicked it off; she left a crack between the door and the frame.

     When she walked into their room, he laid the book on the night stand next to his side of the bed.  He bent down and slid into a pair of green sweats from Junior College.

     'Where are you going?'  She stood in the doorway.

     'Say good night to our son.'  She received a kiss when he walked by.

     'Are you in the mood to talk baseball?'

     'Always.'  Dad opened the door slowly.  Before he could step inside, his low voice from the floor spoke, 'come in.'

     'Hey, thanks.'  He turned on the light then asked him, 'what are you doing?'

     'I was checking to make sure I had everything I needed for the game tomorrow.  I don't want to forget anything.'

     Dad sat down in front of the bat.  'You have your bat, your glove and uniform.'

     'My shoes with cleats.  Yeah, I'm so ready.'  He crossed his legs to get comfortable.

     'I can see that.  Baseball players in bed.  We will be fresh when you step up to the plate to knock that line drive down third base line.'

     'Yeah, I know.'  He stood, then jumped under his covers, then told his dad, 'okay, I'm ready to sleep.'

     Dad asked as he stood in the doorway with one hand on the knob and the other on the light switch, 'are you comfortable?'

     'Yeah.'

     'Warm?'

     'Yeah.  Hot.'

     'Good night.'

     'Good night.'

     'Sleep tight.'

     'Sleep tight.'

     'Don't let the bed bugs bite.'

     'Okay,' he laughed.

     'See you in the morning.'

     'See you in the morning.'

     'I love you.'

     'I love you, too.'

     The light turned off.

     'You have a beautiful kid in there.'  He said after turning off the lights.  'I hope you have it warm under there.'  He crawled in the covers. 'Oh, yeah.  Like always.'

     'Then why did you ask?'  She kissed him.  'Now.'  She made herself comfortable checking his memory.  'Tomorrow at twelve o'clock, you will be where?'

     'Ski lifts?'

     'You're so funny.'

     'I will be present at the motel to watch you receive some title that will bring home more money.'

     'Hotel.  That's right.'  She laughed hugging him adding, 'then we get to watch our son score runs.'

     'They are called goals, Baby.'

     'No, they're not!  They're called...what is it called when you run across the white thing?'

     'Those are touchdowns.'

     'Grrr.  I love you.'

     'I love you.'

 

     The next morning, Alison tossed another load of dirty clothes in the washer.  Jay ran down the basement stairs holding his baseball hat in one hand and a slice of French toast in the other.

     'My hat needs to be washed.'  Powered sugar danced while he took a bite.

     'Don't bring food down here, Jay-jay.'

     'My hat is dirty.'  He posed while it hung on a finger as he continued chew.

     'I thought we washed it yesterday?'

     'Nope.'

     'Yep.'

     At the top of the stairs, Eric yelled, 'I thought you cooked breakfast!'

     She looked at Jay-jay and giggled.  He filled his mouth with the rest of the toast.

     Dad made the stroll down the staircase.  'Where's the food, Baby?'

     'I guess your son was hungry.'

     He picked him up and sat him on the dryer. 'There's no way you ate that much.'

     'My hat is dirty.'

     'Baseball players are suppose to have dirty clothes.  That shows that they play really hard.'

     'Mommy hid the breakfast.'  He hopped down.

     She scooped a cup in the soap box.  'Do you smell that?'

     'The smell is Jay-jay.'

     'I didn't fart.'

     'No, I smell gas.'

     'Did you tell Mommy to hid my breakfast?'

     'I'm talking about gas, not gas.'  She made her way to the stairs and grabbed the hand rail in wonder.  Gasoline flowed from the thresh hold.  'Eric!  Jay, get on the washer and dryer!'

     He rushed to the top of the stairs, grabbed the handle to the door and asked in anger, 'why is the door locked!?'

     'That door doesn't have a lock!  Remember, it doesn't!'