For about a week now, Benny has found a different way each night to be dead when I've come up to say good night to him. The first night he was in his bed with his nerf sword between his arm and his chest. Tongue out precariously. Thankfully he couldn't hold a straight face, so it wasn't but mere seconds before I realized he wasn't actually dead. The other nights were variations on the same theme. Who knows how long he held these poses before I wandered in. Tonight it was this radio, fallen on him in that deadly way heavy appliances can. I barely had my phone out for a picture before he was cracking up, apparently alive. It just goes to show you, these moments, like childhood, are fleeting.
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