It occurred to me recently that the boy is turning four just around the corner. Four years old. Not a big deal to most but my, does that sound old to me. I thought about this as I lay curled up on the couch with my arm around him this morning. Four years old.
"Would you like me to tell you a story about when you were a little boy puppy dog?" I ask him. "When you were little," I begin and flash through all these images of his chubby belly, his antics, legs slipping out from under him as he learned to walk on the wood floor. "I bought this bell for you to ring when you needed to go out..." We snuggle and I tell him stories. "Can you believe you're going to be FOUR in December?" I say. I probably should start planning his birthday party.
Today I was driving home from work and it was one of those days where I just could not snap out of being exhausted and grumpy. All day long. I just wanted to stay in bed with Orion today. Skip school. As I am driving though I think about his happy self greeting me when I come home. I smile. I think about snuggling on the couch as the night rolls in and how we have scheduled only one walk and then we're free to be nice and quiet hanging out with just each other and it is a good thing, and while I hold on to that thought, I forget to be grumpy and tired.