Sleeping.

Last night your daddy called to me in the dark and told me to come look at you.  He was checking on you before turning in for the night as he always does.  That last little check to make sure you're all snuggled in and that there are no monsters hiding under the bed.

And we stood there, with the blue glow of your nightlight just looking at you.

Arms over your head, covers kicked off, your belly peeking out under too small pajamas that you refuse to give up.  Your ankles and calves exposed too, evidence of the inches you've grown these last few months.  Your hair was wild and a little sweaty as it always is when you sleep. 

And you just looked content, as if sweet dreams were playing in your three year old mind.

I stood there, with your daddy's arms around me just watching your belly go up and down with each breath.  I know we are doing something right.  It tides me over on those days that I tell you no 57 times before breakfast.  It makes all of those time outs vanish into thin air.  In that moment, all either of us saw was perfection in those long legs, in your sweet face, in your hands, your mouth, your ears.  Those ten little toes couldn't have been made better. 

I love that you are who you are Finnegan James.  And I love your daddy for giving me reason to pause and take in these moments before they're gone. 

It certainly isn't something I do often enough.