My younger son climbs up the stairs to get ready for bed. Slowly like an iguana, hand over hand, foot over foot, while quiet sobs come from his sleepy head hung low.
"What's the matter?"
"Dad was going to make me hot chocolate....but I had to ask.... (sniff) two or three times....(sniff, sniff) and he forgot to get it."
"Oh.....well, it's now bed time, what should we do about it?" I sit on the stairs with him.
"Sniff, sniff." He climbs onto my lap.
"What would you like to do now?" I wrap my arms around his back.
"Sniff, sniff." He puts his head on my shoulder.
"Do you see anything that can be done about your hot chocolate that could make you happy?" I kiss his forehead.
"Sniff, sniff.Can I have some hot chocolate?" So quiet (sniff).
"I'll race you - you put on your p.j.'s and I'll make you a little cup of hot chocolate."
He brings his face to mine so our foreheads are touching. Then he puts his eye over my cheekbone and wipes. Then he puts his other eye over my other cheekbone and wipes. He sits up smiling.
"That's my job.... to take your tears away."
We both smile, and he climbs up the rest of the stairs, and I climb down.