I think I have mentioned a few times that I am not a morning person.
Never have been and probably never will be (anytime soon at least). I am not a good sleeper. It takes me entirely too long to fall asleep and once I am asleep I often wake and toss and turn throughout the night. This makes morning come entirely too soon. And the only way to combat my groggy sleep deprived crankiness is a giant cup of java.
This needs to be consumed, completely, before any chance of productivity can occur.
This morning, like most other mornings, little man woke up entirely too early. Defintely before my achy bones were ready to get out of bed. So I went into his room, after I failed to get him to go back to sleep in his own bed, He was freshly snuggled down under my giant down comforter,
curled up next to me. I took a deep breath of his mango shampooed hair, kissed his baby soft cheeks, and squeezed him tight!
It was in this moment, awake, but not really, that it hit me. These are the days I want to remember forever. The days where he still fits in the crook of my arm, but is big enough to understand that it's still "sleepy time". Where he still needs me when he is scared, hurt, or upset. But is also so independent and free spirited that he can do so much on his own. We can pack up and go at the drop of a hat, off to share little adventures at the beach, park, or in our own backyard.
My stomach hurts when I think about how much he has grown.
Sure I miss the baby, the newborn, the adorable chubby toddler. But this little man that is snuggled up next to me is hands down absolutely my favorite!
Sooooo we are still in bed, an hour and a half after he woke up. He has had his morning ritual of warm milk and I sipped on my cup of coffee. We have read books on my tablet, played a few games, and he was happy enough to sit next to me while I wrote this whole piece and there is no sign leaving this soft, cozy, toasty warm bed any time soon!
Adios Mis Amigos,