As I was sitting in the rocking chair on my front porch, one of my boys approached. I patted my leg, an invitation for him to sit, though not one I thought he’d accept.
But he climbed into my lap, with his legs dangling almost as far down as mine. Instead of his head resting on my chest like it did when he was small, my head rested on the back of his shoulders.
We rocked for a few minutes, chatting about his day.
Later, another of my boys giggled as he tried to pull me up off the floor where I had laid down to stretch.
He’s strong now and I felt that tug, though he’s not quite strong enough to be able to pull me up, so he gives up and collapses on top of me and laughs as we wrestle.
Even later, my third boy asks for our goodnight sugars, which means a hug, a kiss, a squeeze, noses, a cuddle, then forehead touches. In that order, every night.
Three little moments from our day, nothing special, the kinds of things you take for granted because they’re so commonplace.
Yet I know the day is coming when they’re too big for such things.
When none if them will still fit in my lap, when wrestling with mom will sound like the most awkward thing ever, when they don’t want or need any bedtime ritual other than a simple goodnight…if I even get that.
For now, I’m trying to notice these little things, to enjoy them, to take them while I can. Because much sooner than I can imagine, this stage will be nothing more than a memory.
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