i wake to the gentle, 'slap, slap' - of his baby palm against my cheek, and i turn my head away from him. i hear him grunt and i feel his weight as he climbs mercilessly over my head to find my face again, tugging my hair and kneeing my cheekbone. He pokes his sharp little fingers at my eyes whispering, "boo?"
i snuggle him under the blankets & slowly the sleep fades. Eyes finally cracking open, i glance down at his - they're a startling blue, gazing hopeful at mama. As our eyes meet, his crinkle into a smile, as if to say, 'hi mama! Awake at last?'
"Hey, baby..." i whisper - and he immediately unlatches and corrects me.
"No. i not baby."
"Please?" i softly pretend to beg... or maybe i really do beg - maybe there's no pretending as i'm holding his tender little body against mine as the morning creeps steadier on...
"No." he states. Firm.
"ok." i sigh, resigned... but then he cocks his head - and seems to soften to his crooning mama.
"i be yo' baby." he croaks, "mama - waaa, waaaa..." His careful taunting mockery of a baby's cry to his mama makes me laugh, and he laughs with me. He's such a smart
i hate that lump in my throat. i hate that the sweetness of this moment makes my throat ache and my eyes sting in some sort of piercing nostalgia for a time that's not yet passed.
His white hair is a wild cloud around his face, i smooth it, and kiss the fluff that refuses to lay flat. The seconds tick, my boy grows restless, hungry, ready, awake...
And so we rise to face this new day.
Less than a week left in our spring vigil. Thank you to all who have been following along and sharing... You can check out our recent posts HERE.