One Hug, Two Kisses, Three Goodnights

When the sky grew dark, Mek put away his wooden cars, brushed his teeth, and chose his blue pajamas. Grandma Noi dimmed the lamp while Aunt Fon opened the curtain to the moon. “Ready to count our goodnights?” they asked. Mek nodded.

Aunt Fon opened her arms and asked, “Would you like one hug?” Mek thought, then said, “A side hug, please.” They gently put their arms around each other’s shoulders once—one hug that Mek had chosen.

Grandma Noi asked, “May we give you two kisses?” Tonight, Mek did not want kisses on his cheeks. “Blown kisses, please,” he said. Grandma blew kiss number one. Aunt Fon blew kiss number two. Mek caught them in both hands.

Now for three goodnights. Mek waved to Grandma Noi. “Goodnight one.” He gently touched hands with Aunt Fon. “Goodnight two.” Then he turned to the moon. “Goodnight three.” Little by little, the room grew quiet.

Some nights Mek wanted a hug. Some nights he chose only a wave. Sometimes Grandma went to bed first, leaving Mek and Aunt Fon to count together. The routine could change, but the same question always remained: “How would you like to say I love you tonight?” Mek chose his own answer.