Warm Fuzzies for a Mama's Heart

Last night, D and I put Kenson to bed and I went downstairs to sew. My sewing space is right under Kenson's bedroom. Our old house has the big, oversized floor grates and his room happens to have one. He was fumbling around in bed, making funny noises, and then finally he starts calling for me. It wasn't frantic, more like "I don't really want to be in bed so I'll just try to get out of it." After a bit, I sent D up. D told him to go to bed...you know the standard, just go to bed business.

But of course, Kenson continued to say my name. I ignored him for a while as I finished the sewing I was doing, hoping he would stop. But he didn't so after I finished, I went up to see what he needed. When I got in his room, he was laying in bed. He looked up at me and said, "Cuddle, Mama." So I crawled up on his toddler bed and snuggled a bit. He quickly kissed the hand that was laying against his cheek and quietly said, "Thank you." What sweetness.

And those of you with kids who came home to you later in life will know what I mean when I write that there is something special about those times when your child articulates his need for the comfort that a Mama brings. Kenson has had a fairly easy transition and has loved and responded to love very easily. And he has come to us for comfort, has longed to be held, has soaked in all the moments of nurturing. But, like most three year olds, he struggles to say what he needs. And unlike most three year olds, I suppose there is a bit more scrutiny on my part regarding his emotional needs and his ability to relate them to others. Those quiet moments of Mama-needing vulnerability are really warm fuzzies for my heart.