all his marbles

So I'm laying in bed with Gage for what seems like an extraordinary amount of time (because I'm tired, have a million things to do, and I let him stay up late... mistake #1).  He's trying to settle, I can tell, but he has so much on his mind...  "Hanukkah is the day after tomorrow!"  "How many days until Christmas?"  "How many days until my big soccer tournament?" And on. And on. 

Then, I kiss his forehead and say goodnight as I routinely do and he tells me I can't leave yet.  Why?  "Because I just don't feel right inside", he says.  I understand that this means that he feels anxious, excited, overwhelmed and just not quite ready to settle down but still, I ask what he means by his not "right inside" comment.  

Never expected this response...

"I just feel like I have about thirty of those tiny little marbles like bouncing around inside of me going all over and I can't get them to stop." 

You have no idea how badly I wanted to offer him a valium. 

Or a whiskey.

(I jest of course!)

Instead, I tell him he is going to be a brilliant writer just like his father one day and I dutifully offer several more child appropriate and healthful solutions to settling his mind and his body.  And then I high-tailed it out to document the moment here.  

And take a valium.