My non-sleeping boys

It's late, and I'm not sleeping.  I'm up late reading (again).  The first essays of the quarter aren't due until next week, so I thought I'd get in something I wasn't forced to assign a grade.  As my eyes register the words on the page (uh, screen...technically), the house is filled with sounds of restlessness, of sighs, of whimpers.  The males of this house are not sleeping well.  Flynn is teething.  I can't tell how many are coming in right now because he won't let me anywhere near is mouth (unless it's to shovel in food).  I believe the number is three.  Tim is going through a very stressful patch at work, coupled with a six-day-long headache.  Drake-- I'm not sure what's eating at Drake.  Since Sunday, he's been openly defiant about anything remotely related to bed time.  Last night as we were doing our bed time ritual, he began taking to me about being lost.  He was on the verge of tears, telling me that he really loved me, but he was sad that he and Flynn were going to be lost because they were boys.  It was tough piecing it all together.  Sunday, I took the boys with me to church for the first time and dropped them off at the child care room.  (Could you imagine my boys sitting through mass? Ha!)  I think, while there, Peter Pan on.  Something about that cartoon scared him.  He was afraid of becoming a "Lost Boy."  Something else must have scared him.  I tried getting information out of him tonight, but to no avail.  Captain Hook?  The crocodile?  Tinkerbell?  I need to figure this out quick so at least one male in this house can rest peacefully.   I guess I should call it a night.  I need to be rested to combat cranky boys in the morning.