These Small Moments

He is perched on my hip running a Matchbox car from the tip of my nose up my tousled hair and down to my other shoulder.

It is Tuesday, it is Wednesday, it is Tuesday my boy sings in his toddler voice.

I bury my nose in his chest and he laughs and exhales.

He squishes up his little nose and laughs again as I kiss his chubby neck.

Big brother is on the sofa with the cat sitting on his chest, the dog curled at his feet.

I am trying to write, but my smallest boy calls to me from the kitchen.

Walk backwards, Mama! Walk backwards. Let’s go!

Writing will wait.

We walk backwards around the kitchen table.

We make crazy loops in a half-gallop, half-wobble.

We stumble into each other, his arms wrap around my legs again and again.

His laugh is a chime, a story, the last sweet morsel in a silver bag.

The slip-slap of his bare feet on the floor fade away, are muffled by the thick living room carpet.

He has gone to rest his head on his brother’s stomach.

He is holding out his tiny blue car as an offering. An invitation.

It is Tuesday, it is Wednesday, it is Tuesday he sings.

I let this small moment wash over me and feel grateful.

Photo credit: Marc Liberts

Thank you to The Mommy Padawan for inspiring this post with your lovely writing about staying present.