New Years, Magic

or how I started to appreciate the cat

It was New Years Eve so we let Ella and Kyle stay up to watch the countdown in Times Square on TV. Typically, when there’s not a pandemic, we’re in California with my folks for New Years. This allows everyone to usher in the New Year and be in bed by 9:30.

(Yeah, that’s how we roll.)

Anyhoo, we put Kyle down right away and luckily he fell asleep pretty quick. It’s a slippery slope if you miss the window. Ella can stay up till the dawn so we let her watch the clock roll over at midnight and say ‘Happy New Year’ again before putting her down. And then Phoebe and I immediately put ourselves down.

“G’night, beautiful.”

“Night.”

We live on a quiet street. Our doorbell alerts us to neighbors walking their dogs, delivery people, and the occasional firetruck. (Actually more than occasional because the Oak Park Fire Department is just up the street.) Nights are especially quiet. Of course, Phoebe and the kids can sleep through almost anything. I’m a light sleeper. The tiniest yip or bark from across the alley rouses me. And as a 50 year old man, I usually get up on my own in the middle of the night — which is what happened last night. So much happened last night. I don’t even know where to start.