Kai, our 1 year old son, was putting up a good fight this evening. His little body was exhausted yet he couldn’t stop squirming and yelling. He didn’t want to be cuddled. He didn’t want to be rocked. I have no idea what he wanted.
I grabbed a pillow and placed it on my lap. I took Kai and laid him on the pillow. He couldn’t keep his arms and legs still. He looked like a potato bug that had been turned on its back. His eyes were droopy. His cheeks covered in tears.
I let him twist and stretch until he finally began to settle down. He finally situated himself where he could watch me watch him. I looked into his dark blue eyes and wondered what he’s thinking.
Does he realize how much he’s loved? Does he recognize me? What’s going through his mind as I twirl him back and forth on my chair with George Winston playing in the background?
He searches for my hand until he finds a finger and squeezes it as tightly as he can. His grip feels stronger than his size would reflect. Maybe this is his way of connecting with me.
And that’s fine with me because he’s almost outgrown my lap. It won’t be long till he’s hanging off my back begging me to give him a camel ride around the living room. Or blast him off rocket style onto the top bunk.
Kai could very well be our last baby to keep us up at night.
Be as wiggly and loud as you want, Kai.
I’ll miss it when it’s gone.