Tonight I walked my oldest son to his room to spend a little time with him before bed. He treasures these moments–almost longs for them in the way that I long for chocolate desserts and the pleasure of new slippers. He thinks of all kinds of off-the-wall topics to discuss and touches my face and pats my shoulders. I love it. I love it because it is so purely J and because I know it won’t last forever.
I lay down on the bed next to him briefly, staring up at the ceiling and enjoying the familiarity of our old mattress. J asked me to tell him stories about when I was little [which I deferred to grandma, who will be coming over tomorrow with photos in tow.] I turned to face him in the dusky dim, rubbed his back and said, “Oh, I just love you, J. You’re my big boy.”
To which he, ever lovingly responded, “I love you, too. You’re my big mama.”