The man-child is growing up too fast.
I can no longer see the chubby faced baby in his whiskered face or hear his sweet voice in the deeper pitch of adulthood. The happy smiles of his toddlerhood have all but disappeared in the moods of a teenaged man-child.
And I miss him.
Which may be why I cherished a few moments from this morning.
Sometime yesterday evening, the flu beast made it's presence known in the body of my boy. After a long night of cool cloths, prayer, hand holding and soothing words, we headed off to the doctor-him with blankets and a fever of 103 and me with scriptures to pray, a box of kleenex and a bucket (just in case.) As we sat, waiting, he asked, "can I lay my head on you, mama?"
And so we sat, him with his head on my chest and me stroking his head, kissing his hair, whispering a prayer.
And I cherished the moment.
Because mostly he is 6'2. Too tall, too old to call me "mama". To let me kiss the top of his head and offer a mama to lean on. To tuck him into bed and bring him a drink of water. To sit by him while he sleeps and offer up prayers for the man he's becoming.
So yes, I may be crazy, but today was a moment to cherish...