First one child woke up the drooling mama giant in the middle of the night with a tug. The girl child murmured about her achy tummy and the grumbly mama stumbled off in search of ginger ale, saltines and a few spoonfuls of pepto bismol – and a bucket – just in case. Girl child crawled into the mama bed with her crumbly crackers and hard plastic bucket and slept fitfully.
Then another child appeared, this time real close to drooling mama’s face, with a rushed whisper about a bad dream and a cold room. Mama giant scooted over with a big sigh and tucked a chilly frightened little girl child under the blankets and against her broad warm side.
Mama giant had no room for sleeping now in her mama bed and stared up at the ceiling to wait for dawn. She silently planned out dinner for the week and fumbled occasionally to see the time illuminated in the dark. Every time she came close to something that resembled rest, one girl child or another jabbed her awake with a bony elbow or scratchy toenail.
Mama giant thanked god that the dog could not reach her mama bed. And then she smiled herself into a thin slumber at the thought that her two girl children still needed her occasionally in the most basic of ways.