The Raft

Sometimes Wyatt cries out in his sleep. Loud. Hysterical. Frightened cries.
I am used to this. Abby talks in her sleep. Long, in-depth conversations.

Anyway, my point here is Wyatt, though... I know he is sleeping. I can tell by his sounds when he is sleeping and when he's awake. But sometimes I can't help it, I go up anyway. I sneak into his room, so quietly, just to peek at him. But that kid wakes up at the sound of a leaf rustling in the woods. And he almost always wakes up. And he did tonight, as he often does.
He sits up, eyes barely open but sleepy grin plastered on his face. And I will lean into the crib and smile - it's dark, so we have to get close to see each other's faces. And he'll giggle, which makes me giggle, which makes him giggle more. Then he's standing up, arms up - well, half up because he's also holding Woobie and possibly sucking his thumb...
Then I'm holding him, and he lays across me, like a tiny baby. And I hold him so tight and he sniggles in, smiling with his eyes closed, sucking his thumb and rubbing Woobie. And smiling, with his little eyes closed...
There is nothing more precious than a warm, happy, sleepy baby.

And sometimes, when he doesn't wake up, I just stare... I stare at my sleeping baby and he looks so peaceful and he looks exactly like my first sleeping baby, his big sister. They are the same sweetness, the same peace, the same deliciously adorable bundles of love.

Man, I love being their mommy.