Fleeting

Tonight, as I was washing dishes, my last chore before I could climb into bed and fall asleep to my latest novel, with the television on to keep me company and my back to the hallway, I heard Jackson's door open, followed my his footsteps. He emerged sleepy eyed in his discount pink Dora pull-ups announcing that he was awake. He often says this when he comes into our room at 5:30 in the morning or after waking from a nap, so as to quickly remind us of what we might ignore and end up putting him back to bed. So I scooped him and Charlie up, his bear that I am quickly coming to realize is a new member of the family, and I laid him in bed.  I covered him with his favorite blanket, placed his head on his favorite lion pillow and started to leave the room.  But with a yawn, Jackson asked, "Mommy, please lay with me."  Now normally I have to be strict with bed times, because for every inch I give Jackson he takes 11 more.  But as I curled up next to him and watched his eyes blink, one, two three times before closing, I thought, "I am all that matters in the world."

I am all that matters to my little monster. He needs only me to lay by him to fall asleep, only me to play hide and seek, only me to set up his train tracks, make paper turkeys, finger paint and read at night. Only me to kiss his owies, teach him to swim and cool down his food before his first bite.  And as he slept tucked under my arm I also realized that it will only be me for a little while. As Jackson's world expands, so will what matters to him. So from now on I am going to take each snuggle, each hug and kiss good night, and even each tantrum, and love it for knowing how fleeting it all is.