Every weekend morning I hear the sound of little feet padding down the hall. They go to the restroom and then come skipping into my room - topped off with a grin that could light up the darkest night.
It's the 7 year old. He's come for snuggles.
This has been our tradition for as long as he hasn't been sleeping in my bed. He snuggles back into his old spot and we kiss and cuddle, and whisper I love yous under the blankets until one or both of us falls asleep.
Sometimes, like this morning, I like to watch him drift off....watch his baby face reappear in sleep.
He looks so much like his baby self in those moments somtimes, sometimes I want to cry.
He's so big now, I have to remind him not to knee me in the tummy, adjust him off my arm as it starts to tingle under his weight. Sometimes I get so hot - he's a little fireball- but I still hold him close.
Someday he won't want to do this and I can never get these minutes back. Not ever.
I tell him that sometimes, that some day he'll be too big and won't want to cuddle with his Mommy in the mornings. He always buries his face against me and says the same thing. "I always will Mommy."
I only wish that were true.