Milo pushes his blue truck across the rug. Push, push. His eyelids droop. Five more minutes?
He squeezes his truck tight. The clock ticks on the nightstand. Tick. Tick. Tick.
He tries sitting. He tries lying down. He pretends to be a sleeping bear. His eyes pop open. Squeak.
His mom sits on the bed and opens a big picture book. Soft pages smell like crayons. She reads in a voice warm as honey.
Milo's fingers unclench from his truck. His breathing slows. In. Out. In. Out.
Halfway through, the truck tips forward from her shoulder and rolls right onto the book page. Milo grins sleepily.
His mom closes the book and tucks the truck under Milo's arm. His mouth hangs open. His belly rises and falls like waves.
Milo is dreaming. Moonlight paints a silver stripe across his blanket. Shhh. Sleep tight, little one.