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Restless legs, my son has restless legs... and arms and body. 

"Honey...  relax,"  I say, trying to calm him.  Where does all this energy come from?  It's nearly 10:00 pm on a school night.  I know if he doesn't sleep soon, it will be like waking bricks in the morning. 

"Sweatheart, why don't you try counting sheep?"  I suggest this because his new proud skill is counting, up to 100 so far.

"Mommy," he says.  Darkness hides his tiny face, but I can make out concern in his voice.  Worry?  What is it? 

"Mommy?" he asks.  "What's a sheep?"
Wild Write by Piper Selden

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