Something about our trip to Texas left the boys unsettled. The night after we were back in our own house, our oldest woke us up in the middle of the night because he was having nightmares. We settled him down and took him back to bed. Two hours later he was back, and he returned again about an hour after that.

This pattern repeated itself for several days, with one or the other of the boys showing up in our room in the wee hours of the night.

We don’t let them stay, of course, but they kept trying.

We explained that they have to deal with their nightmares by themselves, that waking us up is not okay.

They kept coming.

Finally, I laid down the law. “If you come to our room tonight,” I said as we put them to bed. “you won’t be allowed in. You’ll have to walk back to your own bedroom by yourself, in the dark. No drinks, no cuddling, nothing. Get it?”

They agreed.

Around 5:30 the next morning, we heard our bedroom door open. We groaned and sat up. Our youngest stood there, without any pants on.

“I lost my pants!” he said, holding his hands out. “Can you believe it? I lost them!”

My wife and I started to laugh. “You lost them?” she asked.

“Yeah. When I woke up, they were gone! I don’t know where they are. I lost my pants!”

I dropped my head back to my pillow. “Well, you don’t see that happen every day.”

He laughed. “Nope! You sure don’t!”