Heading up to say goodnight to the boys, I saw the door to 7-year-old Ben’s room closed, but it’s what I did not see that caused some hesitation.  I did not see Ben’s brothers milling about their rooms.  The upstairs area was strangely quiet.

Opening the door to Ben’s room, I saw him dutifully climbing the ladder of his loft bed.  Ben smiled and to his credit displayed no signs of anything being amiss.  Something however stirred deep within me.  I knew something was afoot.  Glancing behind the door, nothing.  Next stop, the closet.  Swinging wide the door, I heard a unified shriek.  There sitting on the floor, waiting for their chance to scare their poor old father were Ben’s two brothers.  The threat had been neutralized, bedtime would resume as requested.

Accusations flew, as the brothers blamed Ben for revealing their hiding spot.  Ben in all honesty maintained that he had played his role.  Tucking Ben in, he turned his freckled face of youth toward me and asked in wonder, “Dad, how did you know they were in there?”  “The Force,” I answered with a grin, but I had lied.  I had used something much more powerful than the Force or anything else in the universe, a father’s desire for sleep.  May peace and quiet be with you, always.