You're snuggled on my shoulder, rubbing your binky, and slowly but surely falling asleep. It's so sad when you are sick. You are always smiling, laughing, and generally having a good time. But when you are sick, even if it's just a little pink eye, you're generally just sad. Of course you're a little grumpy and cranky. But mostly, you're just sad. You want to cuddle on the couch. You cry at anything. And it's so heartbreaking to see that childhood giddiness slip away from you. Even if it's just for a little while.
And now you're picking your nose. You're timing is impeccable.
But you're sleeping. And normally this is a time of day I cherish. My few moments of self time or time with your daddy before I, too, succumb to my exhaustion. But today, despite having spent the day with you, I miss you. Because you weren't yourself today, maybe? Because even simple things like pink eye can throw a day into such a whirlwind that neither of us get to be our relaxed, normal selves with each other. Perhaps it is an overlooked phenomenon of being a working mother: that our time together seems so limited, that we are both so overjoyed to have one another at the end of the day, that we couldn't help but be our relaxed, giggly selves. And I suppose that's both a blessing and a curse.
Never in a million years would I have ever guessed that love could be defined with snores, drool, and eye snot. But as you sleep here on my now goopy shoulder, I cannot imagine a more glorious moment.
I love you forever.
