These three words

So our son wakes me up at 3am last night, asking to do potty. Not only that, he asks to be carried to the bathroom because “I don’t want to walk, you have to carry me, Papa”.

Then, while doing his “standing potty”, he makes conversation. Mostly about how the water cistern in our bathroom had a sticker from the Sewerage Department while the one in his bathroom didn’t, and how that meant that the one in our bathroom was ok, and that the one in his bathroom wasn’t.

We’re all down with some kind of flu virus in this household, and our minds are foggier than usual. And Kai’s normal exuberance in conversation is affected by this as well as the fact that it is, well, 3am.

He runs out of things to say after the toilet sticker topic, pauses for breath while he pulls his pants up, looks at me, and softly says, “I love you”, before hugging me tightly.

And that, my friends, is how you make waking up in the middle of the night worth every minute of lost sleep.

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