Sad Baby

Peter was so worn out today! While Jill was at school, I took him to the gym with me and dropped him at the childcare at 9:10. By 9:45 I got paged because he was done. I took him home and asked if he wanted to go to the park, "Yeah," he said with an emphatic head nod.

We walked the half mile to the park and when I let Peter out of the stroller, he put his arms up and said, "I hold you. I carry you." He had slides, swings, and acres of green grass in front of him and he just wanted to sit in my lap. Back in the stroller he went. About halfway home I noticed his head swaying side to side. I peered into his face and he was asleep. He had fallen asleep in his stroller, on the side of a busy road, about two hours ahead of his scheduled nap. He slept through the transition to the crib and took a great nap. I think maybe his two-year-old molars are coming in? He was not a happy camper.

I know this is a pretty unremarkable story, but he was so sweet. It's something I want to remember.

In general, I want to remember carrying Peter. He falls asleep in his carseat often, and when he does, I go in the house and grab his blanket. I take off Peter's sneakers, leave them in the car, and loosen his carseat straps all the way. Then I put the blanket on my shoulder so when I finally attempt to lift him from his seat, his head rests against the blanket while he sleeps. Everytime my arms wrap around this sturdy boy, my cheek rests against his blond head, I listen to his even breaths and treasure the dwindling time I have with my baby boy. I think technically there are about two months left before he is two and I have to give up this "baby" thing.

On second thought, never! When I warn Jill that she'll have to give up sucking her thumb someday, she says, "Why?" I say, "Big girls don't suck their thumbs. Babies and little kids do." Jill, already a skilled debater, replies, "But you call me baby." OK, kid, you got me!