No Rest for the Weary

Conversation at midnight, lying in bed with a slightly sick, slightly pitiful Will (Zach is out of town):
"Mama?" (said in a small, quiet voice)
"Yes, baby. Mama's right here."
"Mama."

(30 seconds later)

"Mama?"
"Yes, sweetheart. I'm still here."
"Mama."

At this point, I wrap my arm around Will, thinking that he wants my presence and comfort. He squirms and wiggles and forcibly removes my arm from him and scoots away. His message is clear: I want to know that you're nearby, but I don't want you to touch me. And oh yeah, I definitely don't want to go to sleep.