It's early. Too early to be awake.
I hear you crying. It's been a rough week for you, fighting a fever and a cold and possibly getting a tooth. I sneak into your room, don't want to wake up your brother, and scoop you up. The crying instantly stops. I interpret your tired little sigh as, "Thanks for coming to get me, Mom."
We cuddle on the big reclining chair in the living room snuggled under the fleece blanket Nana got for me when I was pregnant with you and your brother.
It's early. And your sleepy snorts and sighs make me smile as we snuggle.
I should be getting ready for a run.
Your body relaxes in to mine and you fall asleep, your Lovie Bear gripped tightly in one hand. My heart cannot contain the love I feel for you, for your brother, for your Dad who is snoring in the other room. I should put you in your crib. You so rarely fall asleep in my arms these days that I hold onto you a little longer and enjoy the solid weight of a conked out toddler.
Who can run when there is snuggling to be had?