Tonight, my kiddo was disappointed that I did not lie down next to him.
I had intended to do the dishes and come right back.
The dishes didn’t take long; there weren’t many.
But when I was done, I noticed he was quiet.
“Are you asleep already?”
I went over to his bed, and of course, he was sleeping soundly. I kissed him and hugged on him, being not-careful not to wake him. But he was out.
And I was sad.
How many more nights will I be “required” to lie down next to him in order for him to go to sleep? How many more nights will I have to gently decline eager kisses and cuddles in the name of “be quiet and go to sleep now”?
It’s just one night, and it’s not the end of the world. But it is a bittersweet reminder that the days are long and the years are short. That in an instant, the babe falls asleep, and in the next he wakes up a boy, then someday, a man.
They are miraculous creatures. All love and light and magnifying mirrors wrapped up in little human bodies. They are teachers. Among their lessons, patience. Presence. The reflect back to us not only the language we use around them, but the energy we project towards them.
I’m grateful for this life that came through mine.