My boy is not always a snuggler.
It was a very busy social week for my two year old. His
social calendar fills up so fast!
It looked something like this: Thursday – meet at library with mom’s group to speak Spanish
Friday
– meet with mom’s friend and his little friend K to play
Saturday
– playdate, cook-out and hot tub with A &A and family.
Sunday
– Visit and pizza with family in Medina.
Needless to say the boy slept hard on Sunday night. On the
down-side, so much kid-time leads to a large increase in the chances of getting
the sniffles. This is especially true in the heart of back to school season. All
the kids are sharing the germs that summer had kept apart until now! Or
possibly it could be the change in weather and an allergies. Regardless
of source, he had a little sniffle already on Sunday evening as he got ready
for bed.
Which brings me to today. Monday. This morning at about 6AM,
I heard the ever so light sound of a two year old's steps at the foot of my bed.
His cheeks were a little flushed (not uncommon when he is waking up) and he was
sniffling. His eyes still looked bleary, so I had pity on the little guy,
right?
“Come here bubba,” I said as I reached out to him. Wordlessly
he held out his arms for me to pull him up into bed. His eyes were already
closing as I lifted him through the air. He was forming into a compact sleeping
curl as he neared the surface of the bed. By the time I had landed him, he was
already sleeping hard again with a small string of drool trailing his cheek.
Subconsciously, he burrowed into my side and wiggled to get comfortable.
About an hour later, I carried an infant and was trailed by
the two year old down the hall to the kitchen for breakfast while mom got
a few moments of uninterrupted sleep. The two year old, Charlie, moved slow and unsteady
into the living room which is a marked contrast to his usual high energy
sprint.
Despite being a little off his game, he behaved like a champ
this morning. #1 on the potty-check. No bopping little brother – check. No
waking up mom before he’s allowed – check. He had another big day on tap...adventures with mom and little brother! After I had headed off to work, early reports from mom were good…he went on the big potty as requested
at mid-morning. When I checked in with mom at mid-afternoon the reports were
excellent. Big adventures and good behavior!
When I got from work at 5:40 the house was completely quiet.
If they were napping now it could be a bad sign. Poking my head in the bedroom,
I saw my wife and the infant sleeping. Which meant that Charlie was still
sleeping in his room. I read for about thirty minutes before I heard a barely
audible whimper from the two-year old's room. I waited just a moment to make
sure it wasn’t a “roll –over and go back to sleep whimper”. It was not.
In his room, a very disoriented boy sat bolt upright. Now he
was crying. “It’s okay. Are you ready to wake up?”
“No!” and the crying intensified.
“Do you need a drink?”
“NooooO!”
In my most reassuring voice I began trying to soothe him. “You’re
okay. It’s all right. You can lay back down.” The cry became a little frantic
with this so I shifted tactics.
“Do you want me to open your closet door a little and let in
some light?”
“Yes, please!” Really..., he said please in between the sniffs
and gasps.
I walked to the closet and pulled the door open. Now I could
see his red cheeks and the tears streaming down them.
“Do you want me to hold you?”
“Yes!” With that, I scooped up the boy and his blanket into
my arms. I walked around the living room for a while with him clinging to me.
His wispy hair pressed against my neck and one arm draped loosely over my
shoulder. He motioned to the couch where I set him down.
After a little time, he began to come around enough to tell
me about the new bouncy ball he had gotten.
“Where is it?”
“Under the couch, daddy!”
Easy prey for a daddy with long arms. A quick look and a
scoop and the bouncy ball was clutched firmly in skinny two year old fingers.
Now, he was smiling as he held the ball to his side. “Let’s go outside, dad. Play ball.”
“Why not I thought to myself?
Why not?”
We got on our jackets and shoes, still interrupted by minor
break downs and whimpering. Should I have kept him inside because of his
sniffles…Ach, I couldn’t do it. At the top of the stairs he handed me the
bouncy ball and took my hand. Methodically we descended and then headed to the
park across the street.
It was cool and windy. I carried him across the street and
deposited him safely on the sidewalk in the park. He broke into his
characteristic sprint. His little arms swinging like a steam locomotive working
a steep grade he ran about twenty yards. Then he stopped and asked me to put on
his stocking cap... which I did.
He ran a little more. We bounced and kicked the ball. We made
our way past the kids practicing soccer.
And then it happened. “Daddy, hold me.” Then a little more
plaintively, “Hold me, daddy.” This sometimes happens in the park so I wasn’t
too surprised. Another scoop and I had a two year old around my neck.
“Do you want to run now?” Usually, a minute of being held is
enough for him
“No daddy. Hold me.”
He snuggled his head against me. The wind off the lake blew
vigorously.
I sang a song with made up words softly into his ear. I'm not sure why. I used to make up songs for him all the time. This song was about a loved little boy with a sniffle. A little boy that loves to run. Who just got a bouncy
ball. Memories of that little boy huddled close to my chest in the NICU welled
up. Memories of a little boy that could only sleep if we held him followed in
quick succession. Drives for feedings and his first tear flashed in my mind’s
eye. First steps. First falls. Wild giggles and his bright blue eyes. A toe lit
by an oxygen monitor in the hospital. Intense realization bore upon me that my boy
was still all those little boy moments and baby moments and infant moments even
as he snuggled in at two years old. The million past moments and the present
fused in a white hot now. That little boy felt as solid and real as the whole
world.
My boy is not always a snuggler, but he was today.
I paused in my improvised song to take a deep breath. A few
hot tears ran down my cheeks. The wind pounded against my ears, and a small
soft voice continued the song, “and the little boy likes to kick the bouncy
ball.”
I was
glad it was so windy. That could always be an excuse.
Cute! Hope Charley is feeling better!!!
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