There is something about going to bed in a room still filled with soft light, the windows open and sounds of cattle bells outside, of birds singing, of daddy still working in the yard, his footsteps on the gravel, the wind softly moving the curtains.
Your hair is soft and moist, you smell of sun and air. Your breath changes, it slows down, gets heavier, steadier. You scratch a mosquito bite in your sleep, shift your head, do a little sigh. Your little brother is beside you, fast asleep, his chubby little toes are sticking out from the sheets, his curly hair on the pillow.
Tomorrow is waiting for you, and it is full of play and work and love and freedom.
Sleep tight, my little wonder.