I've been feeling smug about the fact that my baby doesn't snuggle with me. He's a typical boy. Always on the go, not wanting to be still (except to watch the occasional Baby Einstein DVD), being obsessed with tearing my kitchen apart. Sometimes I just want to hold him and have him hold me back, to cling onto me like a little koala. Instead, he usually leans far away from me, begging to get down and crawl away from me as fast as he can. It's as if he's saying, "Not now, Mom. I have more important things to do."
Deep in my heart, I've been praying for just a few moments of attention from him. Everyday he demands my attention, but this time, I'm demanding his. My attempts have been futile...until his birthday.
The night of his birthday, after nursing him for a few minutes, I pulled myself up from the rocking chair and held him, expecting the squirming to start any minute. Just as I was about to lay him into his crib, he did something unexpected. He laid his little head on my shoulder and I felt his little fingers grasp onto my t-shirt. He was snuggling me. I held him a little tighter, hummed a lullaby, and fought back the tears. Thank you, God, for my son. Thank you for creating us to be affectionate. Thank you for this precious moment that I will forever cherish.
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