Sweet, quiet moments...

Yesterday, I spent a quiet hour in the afternoon under our favorite “family blanket” and read a good book a friend had given to me. This was one small attempt to enjoy the Jan/Feb that I traditionally loathe but newly want to embrace. All was quiet in the house with the two littlest ones down for their afternoon rest. I shortly drifted off into sleep and was awakened by sweet Richie who had entered the living room and tapped on my foot. His big eyes puffy from his sleep, he was dressed in his favorite sleeping attire—Spiderman underwear and socks, nothing more. He loves the family blanket. We purchased it last spring when Carson and I were at T.J. Maxx and looking for snuggly blankets for around the house. Carson picked out a white one. It’s huge so all three of the children and I can snuggle comfortably under it together without anyone’s feet sticking out or without the ones on the outsides playing tug-o-war to get their fair share of the warmth. And, it’s the softest blanket in the world, I’m quite sure. Richie asked if he could get under the blanket with me and of course, I said yes. We sat there together in the big brown chair under the family blanket for what must have been 20 minutes. Neither of us talked. I thought as he sat there how big he was with his head resting on my shoulder and his socked feet dangling off the seat. Just yesterday it seems he was tiny enough to fit within the crook of my arm. I sniffed his hair and felt the softness of it on my face and prayed that the scent would be burned into my memory so that when he is grown and gone (or perhaps when he is just 14 and no longer wants his mommy sniffing his hair!) that I would be able to remember. He sucked his thumb on one hand while we sat and with the other he gently played with my fingers and I returned the sweet gesture. We traded soft little hand caresses for awhile. I know his likes his arms scratched. Not the hard fast scratch meant to fight off an itch, but the slow light-touch scratch that brings a welcome tingle. So, I scratched his arms a bit and as I did, he snuggled in closer to my lap. There was still not a word from either of us. To him it was probably just a little short-lived post-nap lazy period for he was soon up, dancing in his underwear and asking me for a bowl of pretzels. But, to me it was precious. A moment I felt worthy of writing down. A tiny slice of my life that I hope rises to the top of my memory bank when I am old and gray.