Last night, as I was closing the door to my oldest son’s bedroom, he made a surprising pronouncement.

“Man, I am soooo tired,” he said. “I hope I don’t wake up.”

I opened the door again. “What?”

“Wait, No!” He sat up. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

“Good. Have a good sleep.”

“I know what you were thinking,” he said with a dark chuckle. “When I said I didn’t want to wake up, you were thinking that you could make that happen.”

“No,” I said as I closed the door. “I really wasn’t. Sleep tight.”

… So now I have two problems. First, my son is way too exhausted. Second, he apparently thinks I want to kill him.