At the end of the day...

At the end of the day, when it's all said and done, magically all the hard frustrations melt away. Past the dinnertime food throwing and not actually eating and the purposeful milk spilling. After all the defiant "no's" have been said, we march up the creaky, well-worn wooden staircase to his bedroom.

A small lamp on the bookcase dimly illuminates the room. I help my wiggly boy change into his pjs and we cuddle in soft and deep. Books stacked beside us as we turn the pages together — symbolic of the pages of our lives — quickly turning and passing. We read about the cow jumping over the moon and snowy owl wings among other things. Prayers are said. Songs are sung. Meanwhile my boy clings tightly around my neck and presses close for our cheeks to touch.

I linger, smell his sweet baby shampoo scent and listen to his precious toddler voice. He tells me of his plans for the following day and I become teary-eyed. His scary, life-threatening birth story flashes through my consciousness, and I find myself so thankful and blessed — the very best way to end the day. Heart so very, very full.

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