At 4:00 a.m.

The wind bore down harshly Friday night. It was the worst kind of wind, strong and from the North, bringing with it frigid temperatures and a loud howl. Our house is on a hill, our road a bit of a valley; the wind pushes hard against both our bedroom and the boys bedroom windows.

I'm always awake at night now. I'm uncomfortable most of the time, and every time I use the bathroom, turn over in bed, or wake up to heartburn, I sigh and look at the clock. This time the wind woke me, though. 3:30 a.m. Two minutes later the boys come in.

"The wind is scary. Can we sleep with you?"

Behn and I divide and conquer. I go in with Graham and Patrick snuggles with Behn in our room. Graham is tired and tries to fall back asleep. We lay in the dark, listening to the wind pound the house. My stomach growls. After 15 minutes, Graham whispers, "Mom, if a billion is bigger than a million, what is bigger than a billion?"

"A trillion," I mutter. I'm always surprised at where his mind is.

The wind cries. My stomach growls, and the baby kicks hard.

"Graham? Do you want to go eat a bowl of cereal real quick? Then back to bed."

"Yep."

We tiptoe into the cold kitchen at 4:00 a.m. Our living space is small in this split level house, and a minute later Patrick has heard us and toddles in, rubbing sleepy eyes.

"It's not morning yet, Patrick. But do you want a bowl of cereal? Then back to bed."

The boys quietly shiver at the table. They ask for the space heater, but I don't want anyone getting too comfortable. We all quietly munch on our cereal. Then, without a word, we get up and everyone back into warm beds, and to sleep again.

A funny little memory on a cold night.