I tried to be angry.

“Mommy, I’m having trouble falling asleep.  Will you sleep with me?”

I tried to be mad that they weren’t asleep yet at 9:30.

I tried to be upset that he interrupted my time with the hubby.

I tried to be irritated that he wanted me to stop watching Glee to help him fall asleep.

I tried.

I laid down amongst the stuffed animals and Thomas sheets, and he smiled a sleepy smile across the pillow, put his arm across my back, and closed his eyes.

I tried to be mad.

And I failed.