It had been at least a year since one of the kids slept in my bed for the night. But last night my youngest did.
I've missed it. I did get woken up by a kick to the back at one point, but otherwise, we slept great. My internal clock is an ass, and I woke up at 730. But that's three hours after I've been getting up the last few weeks. But I'd gone to bed five hours after I normally do.
Yet, I feel rested.
I think it's because I woke up to my little holding my hand. His hands are still small, but so much bigger than they were seven years ago.
It's nice to be needed every now and again. It's even nicer to be thought of as a comforting teddy bear on stormy nights. It makes for sweet dreams and lovely memories.