I come home last night, exhausted, and lay Ethan in his crib to go to bed. He had his jammies on from the baby sitters, but he hadn't brushed his teeth and we hadn't read any stories or sang any songs. I was not up for it; I was up for laying Ethan in his crib and closing his door.
"Book? Read book?" His little voice has desperation in it.
I breath in deeply. Exhale. "How about we rock and sing instead?" I try to compromise. I can sit and rock and maybe hum a few notes. I cannot read.
"Rock? Rock?" He grabs his blankey and holds his hands out. I pick up my little boy who feels like he weighs seventy pounds and we make our way over to the chair by the light given off by a dim night light.
My body falls into the chair with a sigh and Ethan's little body falls into mine. He cuddles up close, and rests his head on my shoulder. I start to sing and my voice is so off and so tired it is annoying to me. Ethan listens politely.
God is so good. God is so good. God is so good. He's so good to me. Over and over and over.
I am dozing off and as usual Ethan is as alert as ever, like a Britney ready for the hunt. I stop singing and we just rock. Then his little voice: "Mamma give kisses?" I look down at his sweet face looking up at me, like a dream in the dim light. His smile is sophisticated, like he knows what he just said is the key to every aspect of his mother's soul. I am constantly asking for and giving Ethan kisses, and he almost never acts like he enjoys this aspect of our relationship. So you can imagine my suprise and utter joy at his request.
"Ok," I say, and reach my lips down and place them on his little tiny ones. It is our longest ever, like one and a half seconds, and I am in mother's nirvana.
I start to sing again, this time trying to make my voice as soft and pretty and as perfect-mother-like as I can. Ethan gracefully brings his hand up to my face and sticks his pointer up my nose. Way up my nose.
Again, his smile is sophisticated, like, "This is so funny. Whatta you going do to about this? Huh, Mamma? Whatta you going to do?" I keep rocking, keep singing, and until I finally lay him down, his finger stays in my nose.