Oh, how they try! To sneak up on Phil, to trick him, what delight! And what a wonderful memory, to see two moving lumps beneath my duvet, lumps trying desperately not to be lumps, breathing lumps that can’t help but fidget, lumps that giggle into silence followed by “shh,” “you shh!” “He’s coming!” “Any minute now, shh.” Giggles. Laugh. “Abigail, I don’t want your hair anymore.” Silence. More silence. Then the covers fold and two heads emerge. Little mouths gulping up air. “Man, oh man is it hot in there.”

The pounding of adult feet up the stairs. “He’s coming, he’s coming. This is gonna be so great.”

And they are still, to the point where I worry Phil might collapse into bed, really not realizing the kids are hidden within… That is, until, a size 1 foot worms its way out from the covers like a submarine periscope. Above all others, I love the bed that says “shh.”