Anthony and I watch a lot of Master Chef together.
It’s our thing.
Tonight, we started a different show—a game show. Something new, something fun.
It was late, and he was clearly tired.
Over the course of ten minutes, I told him a few times, “Hey, you’re falling asleep. You should go to bed.”
And every time, without even opening his eyes, he mumbled:
“I was just resting my eyes.”
I didn’t know what to do.
Do I send him to bed? Do I let him keep this moment where he gets to stay up too late watching TV with his dad?
I went soft. I let him stay. For a few more minutes, at least.
And honestly… I’m glad I did.
Because it felt like he wanted to hold onto that feeling. Like he knew it was a little moment—and didn’t want it to end yet.
We’ll catch up on sleep tomorrow.
But I don’t want to miss this season we’re in—where “resting my eyes” means “please let me stay just a little longer next to you.”
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