I hear his quick little footsteps across the wood floor, then I see his little face pop around the edge of the half opened door.
“What are you doing here?” I ask him.
“I’m not fweepy” he tells me.
I frown at him…
It’s late, everyone else is in bed, if not asleep, and I am trying to sneak in a few minutes at the computer, wrestling some code from my fuzzy brain in an attempt to eek this project one step closer to conclusion.
“It’s really late. You really should be asleep.”
He puts on his sadist face, “but I’m weally not fweepy.”
I smile and he shuffles over and climbs onto my lap.
He squirms and wiggles until he has found a comfortable position with his head tucked into my shoulder and his nose resting under my chin.
When did he get so big that he fills my entire lap and then some?
For a moment I feel like a ‘bad parent’.
I feel like I need to set a clear limit, I need to be consistent, and firm, and do the right thing and send him back to bed.
But I won’t.
I don’t because I know that one day he will be all long arms and legs like his brother and sisters, and he won’t fit on my lap at all.
One day he will replace the ‘f’ with the required ‘s’ sound and fweepy and fiders will no longer make me smile.
One day I will have all the time in the world to sit tapping away the the keyboard, but right now, in this moment, I have a opportunity.
I could set a firm limit, maybe I should set a firm limit, but I won’t.
I won’t send him back to bed.
Instead I sit here, in the glow of the computer screen and hold my baby in my arms.
I rock him, and smell his hair, and try to remember this moment. I know it will not last forever.
After a while, his breath slows and he drifts off to sleep. I carry him to bed and snuggle in beside him until he settles.
Maybe I am a bad parent…
Or maybe I am the best parent I can be, for my boy, in this moment.