Tonight, after putting the kids to bed, R and I settled down on the couch. T, who rarely, rarely gets out of bed after the ol' bedtime routine, came downstairs and said he had to go to the bathroom.
When R asked him why he came downstairs, he said that he didn't want to wake up S, who has recently been most averse to the ol' bedtime routine lately, by flushing the toilet.
Clever and also smart.
After using the bathroom, he was trying to explain to R why he couldn't sleep. Sometimes T still has a lot of trouble getting the words in his mind to come out through his mouth. As he struggles to form the words, he gets frustrated and upset which starts a vicious cycle.
Seeing the process start, I asked him to come and cuddle with me on the couch. He folded up in my lap (not unlike an accordion - he's so tall these days!) and snuggled in.
What is it about kids in pj's all sleepy and warm and snugly? I felt myself relax as he did, which was funny because I didn't realize that I was tense.
So I sat and watched him fall asleep, trying not to seem like I was watching him fall asleep because similar to a watched pot not boiling, staring down a 6 year old isn't the best way to send him off to sleepy land.
Within minutes, he was breathing deeply and regularly and not moving if I shifted in my seat or moved his arm.
Oh, the hours I used to spend holding T as a baby so he would sleep...
It made me a little melancholy to realize that, for one reason or another, those days are almost over.
I'm so proud of the person T is becoming, but there are times I really miss the baby he used to be.
I don't think that I've felt so in the moment in months as I did tonight.
Who knew that for me sleeping kindergartner = chicken soup for the soul?