On my bed is a pillow that says “Always Kiss Me Good Night, Always Kiss Me Good Morning.”
If it is not my night to tuck in the kids, I lie in bed. Eventually, they come out of their room, usually one at a time, for “last hug and kiss.”
First came Quentin, on the brink of five years old. He always needs to climb into the king-sized master bed for his last hug and kiss, using a bench at the foot of the bed. I always give him a reminder to “be gentle” lest he fling himself on top of my baby bump. Then he laid his head down on my belly. After lifting his head, he patted my belly with his hand. “Last hug and kiss to the baby” he said, with a big smile on his face.
A few minutes later, Theo came in, my sweet big kid. He likes to nuzzle against my neck. After giving me last hug and kiss, he said “I want to say goodnight to the baby.” His voice rose an octave. “Goodnight baby!” He cooed, waving to my belly.
On the same night, they both decided to include the baby in their evening ritual. If only I could know how long these good nights will last. A few more weeks? Or many years to come?
“Beauty sits beside you somewhere, even when your world is in deepest, darkest pain.”