A trail of pastel pillows and ragged teddy bears connects our bedrooms together at bedtime.  I let out a huge sigh of relief each night when observing the mess. It's during that "bewitching" hour of the day where fairy tales come to life in suburban Ohio and prepare my children for sweet dreams. A mess in the hallways means loving slumber ahead. This wasn't always the case. I learned some time ago that if you can't beat them, than join them, and threw myself into mini Broadway productions of story book favorites. Oh, the things you do.

"And, then... Mama Bear climbed into Son Bear's bed and said this is too fluffy!" The children drag their pillows across the floor, follow my lead and jump upon the bed in fits of giggles. I escape into the next room and wait for the sound of shuffling feet  behind me before continuing.

"Mama Bear climbed into Daughter Bear's bed and said this is too cozy!" They hug pillows across their chests with great anticipation of what's next. I wait until the laughter softens before sashaying away.

"Mama Bear climbed into Baby Bear's bed and said this is too messy!" Three tiny noses wrinkle at the site of a hurricane of a room before willingly throwing themselves on top of a teddy bear slew.

"Finally. Mama Bear climbed into her bed and said this isn't too fluffy, just cozy enough, not at all messy and just right for me!" Four bodies intertwine in a massive hug fest where each child begs for more. "Me! Cuddle me!" "No, Mama. Snuggle with me!" "Mama I no have room. I push to make room." Before a push gives birth to a shove I break out my finale. The repertoire changes nightly allowing my inner dork to shine daily.

"And, then... Mama Bear saw three beautiful cocoons laying in the not too fluffy, just cozy enough, not at all messy bed." Eyes widen as they draw their pillows to their chins and listen.

I tuck the blanket tightly around the nearly-eight-year-old in a burrito style, much like I did when he was an infant. I rinse and repeat with the girls and stand back to observe three children in separate cocoons laying before me, waiting for my next move.

"Mama knocked on the cocoons to see if they were alive." I gently knock on all three tummies and am greeted by heads (the only body part that can move) turning left and right screaming with laughter.

"Mama put her ear to the cocoons to see if she could hear life."  I place my ear to each blanket cocoon and witness three children holding their breath, their lungs filled with glorious un-tainted air.

"Mama took a saw to the stubborn cocoons to see if she could cut them open." I use my right arm to saw through the blankets and even provide them with the proper sound effects. "Brrrrooom. Rooooom. Brrrrrooom." Told you, I was a huge dork No one  flinches.

"Mama was all out of ideas of how to open up the cocoons so she did what she knew best.  Tickle!"  I fall forward equally distributing my love, laughing...

"And out came a handsome butterfly!"

"And out came a gorgeous butterfly!"

"And out came a beautiful butterfly!"

Much to my exhausted soul they ask for more.  A final curtain call.  Knowing they have me wrapped around their adorable fingers I sing our "good night" song.  The last thing I look at, before closing my own eyes for the night, is that unruly trail of mistmatched items in the hallway.  Never did a mess look so comforting.