Two and a half hours later, Yitzchak walks in to get our pajamas. (We have a one-bedroom apartment. Hopefully, that will change in the summer.)
“Did you give Shlomo your pillow?” he asks.
“Does he have my pillow?”
Yes, he does. Shlomo has my pillow and – unnoticed to Yitzchak – my blanket. How? I guess he reached out of his crib and managed somehow to grab them off my bed and drag them into his. The pillow isn’t surprising – one end of his crib meets the head of my bed, with a few inches between them. The blanket – I have no idea how he got.
But there he was, sleeping on his pillow and an inch of mine, with my pillow almost standing straight up behind his head. And my blanket? Between his knees, covering only the lower part of his legs. I guess it helped him fall asleep.
It was such a cute picture, but I didn’t want to risk waking Shlomo up. Oh, well.
My only question is: Is the interest in my pillow because he doesn’t like his? Or because my pillow is mine?