Skip to main content

The Best Thing

As we cuddle together, his body slowly becomes limp and he sleeps. He had insisted on "the tickle" right until he succumbed. He becomes entranced whenever I take my nails and skim them across his back or arms and neck. When I stop, he wiggles and panics and says, "Tickle, tickle" over and over again until I begin again. Then he says, "Ahhhh, tickle," and he's content. The kid's an addict. I had just changed his diaper before bedtime and he was exhausted from another day of toddler adventure. He hair was a riot of curls around his head and a few places were sticky from some ice cream he had eaten earlier. I ran my fingers through his hair cherishing the baby-soft feel of it. I could feel the child growing inside of me kick against him as if to say, "Hello? I'm in here and you're crushing me!" He is oblivious. I enjoy listening to his breath and keep up "the tickle" even though he doesn't feel it now. He looks like a cherub with his rosy cheeks, pink lips, extremely long lashes curling upward, and curly blond hair. I gently turn him around till I'm cradling him and take him off to bed. As I lay him on his bed and tuck him in for the night, he doesn't wake. He's lost in toddler dreamland. I turn on the fan and look back at him. I kneel down beside his bed, kiss his hand once...twice....three times. Feeling as if my pregnancy hormones are about to take over and my emotions burst into fragments, I say a prayer for my son and leave the room. But my thoughts do not leave him. I often wonder what is in store for my sons. I often wonder what I can do beyond teach them, care for them, and love them. As I stand outside his bedroom door, I pray, "Be with my sons, Lord. Protect them. Give them wisdom." That is the best thing I could do for them.

Comments

striving... said…
So, did you ever cry that night, because you brought tears to my eyes, Thanks A lot, lol.

Popular posts from this blog

The Top 20 Clean Romance Movies Of All Time

I'm really picky when it comes to romantic movies. I prefer them clean and it's really hard to find those kind of romance movies these days. Nowadays, romantic movies are chock full of butts, boobs, and beds. Just sayin'. I was bored one day and decided to google the top romance movies of all time. You have got to be kidding me. One list had Brokeback Mountain on it. Pulease. I was, in fact, so disgusted by all of the lists that I came across that I decided to make my own. I decided to call it The Top 16 Clean Romance Movies of All Time, well, because I couldn't think of anymore to make it an even top 20. Now, my list might be different from most people. I said I was picky. First, I don't like b***** women. That scratches out a whole pile of popular movies. One of them being Gone With The Wind. Does anyone besides me want to smack that woman? Second, I don't like it when the couple end up in bed together. Uh, I don't really need to know, thankyouverymuch. Th...

Grooming Gargoyles

Some say boys are much easier to raise.  I can see that.  Girls have that PMS thing going on once a month and who wants to deal with that?  Not me.  It's bad enough I have to deal with myself.  Plus, girls can be overly dramatic and cry a lot....wait.  Maybe they aren't too different from boys.  However, there is one thing that I probably wouldn't have to deal with if I had girls instead of boys. That would be hygiene. Being a girl myself, I know that girls like smelling nice.  We love to take baths and soak in sweet smelling bubbles and make our skin feel smooth.  No way are we going without brushing our teeth just in case our honey wants to steal a kiss.  Hair, makeup, deoderant...let's face it.  We are not going to face the day without looking good. My boys are different. They would wallow in their own filth and revel in it.  Big Mac Attack has finally gotten to the point where HH and I don't have to nag him to take ...

Surprise, Surprise

Our cute, little booger is being potty-trained now. Oh, joy. I hate potty-training. To me, there's nothing cute about it. It's a nasty, disgusting business and I'd rather it pass by without me having to do with it. The nasty, disgusting part is really not the part that I hate the most. It's the fact that I have to get off my patoosky every stinking hour to place the cute, little patoosky on the potty chair. Let's face it, I'd rather be doing something else. He is the last one, though, so I will prevail in this. I must or the child will be using my floor for a potty chair for years to come. Case in point. Sneezy came to me with a soiled diaper telling me that he "poot". I don't know why I didn't believe him. Maybe because I didn't smell it, but I took his diaper off thinking there were no surprises. Well, that surprise plopped out onto my carpet and I gasped in shock with my jaw to the floor. Since Sneezy was standing in close proximity...