Last night he came back to my bed.
Reluctantly, I lifted the blanket and let him in, a little irritated that he had returned.
It’s the third night this week and he’s nine years old, for God’s sake.
Then he wrapped his arm around me and put his little face on my chest.
And I quickly remembered…. I remembered that very, very soon he will not come to my bed again.
Not only will he come less to bed with me, but he will stop coming to bed with me altogether.
He needs me much less than he used to. The baby has already changed so much about me that I just wanted Mom.
Which is good, because that’s what he’s supposed to do. But my God, it’s happening so fast.
One day he won’t be scared at night. One day he won’t want me to put him to bed. One day he won’t live here.
So I’ve decided that I’m going to sleep with them until I can’t anymore. I will keep lifting my blanket and taking them to the warm bed next to me until they stop showing up.
Because I’m sure they will stop showing up.
And I know for sure that when that happens I’ll be sad and I’ll regret not taking every opportunity to cuddle up with those little people.
So come to my bed, little babies. I’ll save a place for you for as long as you want it.
♥