Just after eight o’clock this evening as I was tucking my boys in, “snug as a bug in a rug”, my son Evan asked me to lay down with him until he fell asleep. “Scoot over.” I said, and snuggled in under the covers with him nose to nose. He draped an arm around my neck, as he’s so often done and yawned. He opened his eyes and saw me smiling at him, and asked, “Mommy is it rude to yawn in someone’s face?”
I said, “I suppose, but it’s OK when it’s Mommy.”
“Is it because even though I’m big, I still have a baby yawn?” He asked, eyes and voice, already heavy with impending sleep.
“Yes, that’s exactly why.” I said, and snuggled in tight, hoping for many more shared baby yawns.
My “baby” is five years old now, yet I can still remember seeing my sweet son yawning when he was just a little thing, cuddled in my arms. He melted my heart then as he still does, and I’m sure, forever will.