It was five in the morning.
Cole woke up and called out to me. He had to use the washroom.
I went in and carried him to the toilet.
There in the dark, me sitting on the cold tile floor, leaning wearily against the wall, he looking thoughtfully out at the moon glow beyond the bathroom curtains, Cole said, "Don't worry, Mommy. Things'll get better."
I grinned, "Who told you that?"
"You did," he whispered.