As I rock him in his darkened room, his eyes slowly close. He's fighting it. Fighting the nap he desparately needs. Not everyday, but definitely today.
He's almost two and a half.
But his hands, feet, and cheeks still have that baby fat.
As he succumbs to sleep, his hands curl into the loose fists I fondly remember. One small hand wrapped around my finger. The other brings his stuffie closer to his nose.
His breathing deepens, I feel his whole body relax.
And I relax, lean back, and close my eyes. Enjoying a moment that doesn't happen very often any more. The laundry and cleaning can wait five, ten, fifteen minutes.