Every night, after bath and pajamas and the wrangling that is brushing a willful two-and-a-half year old’s teeth, Theo and I go into his room, dim the lights and get ready for sleep. I sit down in the rocking chair and he squeezes in beside me, holding two books. I wrap my arms around him and we read, usually punctuated with me repeatedly kiss the top of his head. Theo always asks for ‘one more book,’ and sometimes I oblige. But most often, I’ll tell him it’s bedtime. So he jumps into my lap to delay sleep for just a little longer, for snuggles, bedtime prayers and a song or two.