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"mommy?" he says, as the gate in the hallway closes. "it's four-oh-four so I came in for snuggles, I didn't want to wake you at three."
"is everything okay?" I ask as he snuggles into my side of the bed for the first time in the three months since the injury. busted knees don't lend themselves well to sleeping next to boys who kick in their sleep.
"yup, just wanted snuggles."
eventually he wandered back to bed, but unfortunately the gate locked noisily, and in only another moment the dogs let me know they were awake and would very much like a potty break. my robe waits by my bed for these occasions.
just as they came back in, the lovely child in the next room closed the door behind him and said, "i decided i'd get up and take care of them so you can go back to sleep."
which was very thoughtful, since he woke them up. but, "they are going back to bed, my dude, and you need to s l e e p."
it was nearly six before I was able to fall back to sleep, and six fifteen when my darling girl woke for the day, like she always does. i ignored her for a minute and she settled back down...just in time for the cat to vomit in the bedroom doorway.
it's nearly seven now. my vantablack boy has been out four times to play in the eight or so inches of snow, coming back in damp from the flakes still falling.
as I sit here in the quiet, tucked under my blanket in the soft glow of my pretty electric fireplace, I can't help but think, why didn't he just come in at three? three is the magical hour of snuggles and conversation that always leads back to sleep. when he wakes again I'm going to tell him that: not to wait in the future, just to come get me when he needs me. especially at three.
the dogs are at the door again, asking to track in more snow, to drip on the floor and jump damply into my lap. the alarm is going off to wake the kid for school he doesn't have today.
"is everything okay?" I ask as he snuggles into my side of the bed for the first time in the three months since the injury. busted knees don't lend themselves well to sleeping next to boys who kick in their sleep.
"yup, just wanted snuggles."
eventually he wandered back to bed, but unfortunately the gate locked noisily, and in only another moment the dogs let me know they were awake and would very much like a potty break. my robe waits by my bed for these occasions.
just as they came back in, the lovely child in the next room closed the door behind him and said, "i decided i'd get up and take care of them so you can go back to sleep."
which was very thoughtful, since he woke them up. but, "they are going back to bed, my dude, and you need to s l e e p."
it was nearly six before I was able to fall back to sleep, and six fifteen when my darling girl woke for the day, like she always does. i ignored her for a minute and she settled back down...just in time for the cat to vomit in the bedroom doorway.
it's nearly seven now. my vantablack boy has been out four times to play in the eight or so inches of snow, coming back in damp from the flakes still falling.
as I sit here in the quiet, tucked under my blanket in the soft glow of my pretty electric fireplace, I can't help but think, why didn't he just come in at three? three is the magical hour of snuggles and conversation that always leads back to sleep. when he wakes again I'm going to tell him that: not to wait in the future, just to come get me when he needs me. especially at three.
the dogs are at the door again, asking to track in more snow, to drip on the floor and jump damply into my lap. the alarm is going off to wake the kid for school he doesn't have today.
