Moonlight Sonata

One of my nightly duties is putting my son Quinn to bed. We've developed a little routine, and if we deviate from it in any way, Quinn gets agitated. He likes his routine.

Every night Quinn unmakes his bed and climbs in between the sheets. I cover him up, and then I say, "Tell me 2 things." One of the two things he always tells me is , "I like hugging you," (which has been shortened to just "hugging you") and the other, on most nights, is either "Kissing you" or "How many days until Daddy doesn't have to go to work?" (Daddy takes off work on Tuesdays, and he doesn't work on Sundays.) After he tells me his 2 things, he tells me his favorite part of the day and then says his prayers. If it's not too late, we read a short book. (His favorite, right now at least, is Cloudy With a Chance of Meatballs. Some days I wish it rained food like in the town of Chewandswallow. A girl can dream, right?)

Last night we did our routine, and when we finished, Quinn wanted his back scratched. No problem.

Earlier in the day I'd had to switch the stations on his radio from the local Christian station to NPR (National Public Radio) because of bad reception. So, there I was, on the bed, listening to soothing classical music, scratching my son's back and feeling my eyelids get heavier with each stroke. If he had a larger bed, I would've just stayed there.

When my sister and I were young, my dad was in the National Guard. In the summer he had to go away to "camp" for 2 weeks. We missed Dad, but we loved getting to sleep in the big bed with our mom. My sister, mom and I would all pile into Mom and Dad's king-sized bed and talk and laugh until our sides hurt. Those times are some of my favorite childhood memories.

Back then, Mom listened to NPR at night (still does), because she needed that little bit of noise to help her fall asleep. Last night, listening to NPR in Quinn's bed, I felt like a kid again, safely tucked under the covers in my mom's bed. I wanted to lay really still and not breathe and just be in that moment forever. I had it so good as a kid. I just didn't know it, because I was always in a hurry to grow up.

What I'd give to know then what I know now. I would've savored each moment of childhood like slow licks on a lollipop. Being a grown-up has its moments, but it ain't all fun and games.