THE NIGHT VISITOR

(A true story of one parent's long night adventure with a two year old)

"Ask and ye shall receive, but be careful what you ask for.” It was one of those uncomfortably hot, humid summer nights and my two year old toddler son would not settle down and go to bed. I was hot, tired and not just a little frustrated. It was almost 11: pm and he was still as wide-eyed and full of mischief as he had been at 4:o'clock that afternoon. If I tried to get him to settle down he whined and screamed and threw one of those infamous two-year old tantrums. It was going to be a long night, no two ways about it.

We played games. I'd rocked him and read to him and just when I thought I had won and he was dozing off, the minute I tried to lay him in his bed his eyes popped wide open and we were off and running again. I'd let him play in the bathtub in nice tepidly cool water so long he was starting to wrinkle like a prune. Nothing I did was going to help. He simply was not going to settle down and go to bed and go to sleep.
I put him into bed and kissed him good night, determined to let him scream himself to sleep but that didn't work well either since I was too hot and tired to listen to the screaming.

A half hour later I picked him back up and we sat glaring at each other over glasses of chilled fruit drink as I tried to explain to my two year old the importance of a good nights sleep and that he was fraying my very last nerve. He gave me a bored look and said "book, me book" as he threw his now nearly empty cup on the floor. I grabbed paper towels to wipe up the mess and picked up the cup tossing it into the sink with an aggravated sigh as I looked out the window into the steamy summer night. Maybe he wasn't ready for bed but I was more than ready. I had had enough.

"You are going to go to bed," I said sternly. "One more story and then you must go to sleep. Mommy is sleepy and tired and you should be. Do you understand me?" Of course he didn't. He is only two. I picked him up and headed back to the bedroom, his little arms hugging my neck as he sweetly laid his head on my shoulder. I just couldn't stay angry but this wasn't the end and deep down I knew it. It was going to be a very long night.

"Lord," I muttered in frustration, "What can I do to get this kid to go to sleep?"
I put my son back in his bed for the umpteenth time and picked up one more book to read to him. It was the story of a little boy named Billy and his dog Samson.
Like an answer to prayer, an idea popped into my tired brain. "Okay," I said, "if you don't want to go to bed here, we're going camping, just like Billy and Samson in your storybook." Shucks, I thought to myself, this might even be fun and it might be more comfortable outside than in this stuffy room, despite the fan and all I could do to keep it comfortable.

My son looked at me with a scowl but at least he hadn't started screaming again.
I lifted my son from his bed and pulled an armful of blankets off the closet shelf. Leading my son toward the kitchen, I grabbed some clothespins, a flashlight, a box of animal crackers and a bottle of water, then herded my son ahead of me out the back door to the fenced in play-yard where I put up a makeshift tent by clipping a blanket over the corner of the fence. I made a bed for us with the other blankets. I plunked myself onto the ground and leaned against the fence, pulling my son into my lap.

"Let's pretend", I said and thought to myself, (that you are very, very sleepy) "that we are out in the woods on a really real camp out just like Billy and Samson in your storybook." We looked at the pictures in his storybook for a few minutes, using the flashlight to see by and then I laid down cuddling him next to me, looking up at the sky and the hills and meadow beyond our yard as we looked out from our makeshift tent. The night was as lovely as a summer night can be with a nearly full moon and a zillion stars all sparkling in the heavens above. The meadow danced with the lights of fireflies and every now and then a bird would chirp sleepily from its nest in a nearby bush or tree. My son was delighted to be outside and for the first time since about 8 o'clock that evening content to lie quietly next to me.

I kept my voice soft, barely above a whisper as I told him about the stars that winked and sparkled in the sky above us, the moon and the man in the moon who was watching us and the other little creatures who were already sleeping, the chipmunks, the squirrels, bunnies and the little birds and suddenly I realized his little body was relaxing and he was breathing more deeply, slowly drifting off to sleep. I stretched out and began to relax myself. Why hadn't I thought of this earlier? The battle of wills seemed to be nearly over. Well, so I thought.

I was just starting to doze off myself when I suddenly sensed that my toddler and I were not alone in our play yard. I edged myself up onto my elbow and peered into the darkness. There was something moving between me, my son and our path of escape to the safety of the house. My breath caught in my throat and I could feel my heart pounding against my ribcage. I caught the hint of a slightly undesirable odor in the humid night air. No! How on earth did that get inside the play yard? "Lord, this isn't even funny," I whispered and looked down at my son, praying he was sound asleep. No such luck.
My moving had stirred him awake again and he was looking up at me, wide eyed. Our visitor was strolling in our direction, nose to the ground, his goal the box of crackers not three feet from where my son now sat next to me.
I gently pulled him into my arms, "Don't move, honey," I whispered, "be very still and very quiet."

"Phew kitty," he whispered back. He had never seen a skunk before but even a two year old can recognize that smell.

"Shhh." And I gently cupped my hand over his mouth, "be quiet."
One hand holding my son close, with the other I flicked on the flashlight to better evaluate our situation. Caught in the beam of light, the skunk hesitated and then retreated just a short distance but not far enough for me to risk gathering up my son and trying to get around the skunk and into the house.

What to do? My best bet was to just not move, do anything to alarm our guest and just sit tight and wait it out. "Lord, please don't let that fellow spray," I whispered a silent but urgent prayer.

By myself, I would not have been the least alarmed by this night time intruder. I would merely have eased myself away from the box of crackers and enjoyed watching one of God's little critters on his nightly tour. Skunks won't spray unless they feel endangered. However, a skunk and an excited and rambunctious two year old could easily turn into a volatile situation, highly scentsitive. My heart was pounding and my mind was spinning a thousand miles per second. "Honey," I whispered, "please sit right tight to Mommy and don't move. Be very quiet. Be Mommy's good boy. Please."

I carefully inched my butt with my son in my lap, maybe another two feet from the crackers but every time I tried to move at all the skunk stopped and eyeballed me. We definitely didn't trust each other. I knew that no distance within that play yard was a safe distance from our intruder. I also knew beyond much of a shadow of a doubt that if I jumped up and tried to make a dash for the door and safety of the house we were doomed. Even if he didn't get us, the skunk would probably spray and the air would be permeated with that horrid odor for days. In the heavy humidity of summer it was a lingering scent I did not want to have to deal with. There was nothing I could do but wait it out.

Every ounce of sleepy had left my body. I turned off the flashlight and sat there watching the biggest skunk I had ever laid eyes on tear into our box of crackers only a few feet from me and my toddler son.

My son looked up at me, "Phew kitty, Mommy," he whispered.

"Yes, phew kitty, skunk," I whispered. "Shhh, be quiet and don't move. Just sit still with Mommy and watch."

My son cuddled in closer and didn't move or say another word for several minutes, though it seemed like hours had past. His head rested against my breast, his eyes fixed on the "phew kitty".

A neighbor's dog began to bark excitedly. Apparently they had night visitors too and I hoped the barking would not alarm mine. The skunk paused for a moment and then went back to his business of tearing open the cracker box. The noise caused my son to look up, wiggle around and then settle into a more comfortable position. The skunk started and raised its tail. It danced around a little and stood facing us, its tail poised in warning. I held my breath for what seemed an eternity until the skunk returned to the crackers and ignored us, convinced we had taken his threat seriously, which I had.

I still barely dared breathe let alone try to make an escape to the safety of the house so I sat there, my son in the relative safety of my arms as sweat trickled from my hairline down my face and down my back. I prayed my son wouldn't make any more sudden movements or noise that might trigger the skunk's defense mechanism. We couldn't do anything but watch as our night intruder devoured our crackers.

Even after my son's excited breathing had settled into the easy, relaxed breathing of sleep, I sat motionless. It seemed an eternity passed before the skunk wandered off and I could relax.

I took a couple deep breaths and shined the flashlight around the yard to assure myself the skunk had really gone and there were no more intruders, then I lay down beside my son heaving a sigh of relief. I couldn't remember when I had felt so totally exhausted.

As I looked up at the stars in the summer night sky they all seemed to be laughing at me. I had to laugh too. Maybe our backyard camp out wasn't the storybook kind but it had been quite an adventure and it had worked. My son, at least, was asleep looking so sweet and innocent curled up beside me.

I sighed. "Thank you, Lord," I whispered, "but I really wasn't that desperate. Maybe next time we'll just settle for the dining room and a tent under the table. I smiled to myself and pulled a light blanket over us.

Dawn was just a few short hours away. I closed my eyes but laughter tugged at the corners of my mouth as a verse from the Bible slid through my mind. "Ask and ye shall receive."

"But be careful what you ask for," I added. "God has an uncanny sense of humor." As I drifted slowly into sleep my mind conjured up this mental image of God sitting in his heaven watching me and grinning like a Cheshire cat. "You're really funny," I thought, referring to God, as I took one more peek at the summer sky and a distant star seemed to wink back.

The early rays of dawn woke me and I stretched and yawned. I stood up and lifted my son into my arms, still sound asleep. I carried him inside and tucked him into his bed. Back in the kitchen I put a pot of coffee on to brew and stood staring into the back yard where my son and I had spent the long night. My eyes fell on the shredded cracker box and I burst into peals of laughter. God really does love us very much and he has the most wonderful way of turning something miserable into a life long treasured memory.

It is a night I will never forget. I've done a lot of camping since that night and I have yet to spend a night in the back yard or in the woods or a park that I have not thought about the night my two year old toddler would not settle down and go to sleep and the adventure God sent us on. I must have read the story of Billy and his dog Samson a hundred times since then and I don't think they ever had such a grand adventure.

Annette Bromley