“Momma, I want you.”
“I know Jack. I want you too.”
This exchange happens every day. Multiple times a day.
Sometimes it’s whispered. Sometimes it’s shouted. And sometimes it’s punctuated with a stamp of a foot or throwing a toy.
He wants me to get him snacks. He wants me to hand him the M&M’s container so he can sift through for his favorite color. When he sits on the couch to watch television, he wants me to go find his Elmo and fuzzy blanket. He wants me to settle in next to him to keep him company. He wants me to play trains and cars. All day long, he wants. And wants. And wants.
In the middle of the night, I hear Jack slowly shuffling down the hallway. When he gets to our room, he mutters against the door, “I want you, Momma.” As the words leave his mouth, I roll over and out of the bed in one ninja-like motion, making it to the door without my sleeping husband even stirring.
I lead Jack back to his bed, adjust his covers, and climb in with him.
When I settle in next to his little body, his face relaxes.
Immediately he instructs me, “Close your eyes, go to sleep and don’t touch me.”
Those are always the rules.
I close my eyes and roll over towards the wall, not touching him a bit. A few minutes into us laying side-by-side, I feel his body inch closer to mine.
A little wiggle.
Finally, his miniature little butt touches my not-so-miniature one.
It’s exactly how my husband and I sleep.
At some point Jack drifts off and I roll over to look at his sleeping face. It looks exactly the same as it did almost three years ago when he was born. While part of me wishes I could get a full-night’s sleep in my own bed, the other part of me relishes these moments.
I lean in and give him a kiss, breaking the no touching rule.
One of his hands snakes out from under the covers to hold mine and I fall asleep.
It’s hard to get up in the morning to go to work, but worth it.
Because he wants me.