rock, mama

For the last week or so, Logan has asked for us to rock right before going to bed. You know, in his glider of course. It melts my heart. He grabs a blankie or lovie (Elmo tonight) and climbs on my lap facing me, rests his head on my chest and strokes my arm with his hand. Tonight he was especially wired and needed some extra time to settle down for bed. So while I rocked him he told me a very long story about I don't know what. It was all gibberish. But the gibberish was wonderful. His little mouth moving and trying to make perfect sounds, only for this clear thoughts to pass his teeth without a clear understanding (from me). But, for him, it was crystal clear. He was telling me all about his day with his Lolly and playing at school. He told me all about the dogs chasing him outside while he tried to throw water on them and how he asked to wear a coat and then changed his mind, and then changed his mind again. And then again when he came inside and needed help getting the last bit of the zipper unzipped. He told me about how he was in time-out tonight for throwing his cereal on the floor, his hot dogs on the floor, and spitting his juice into the swing. And that he was sorry and sad that he made us sad. But that he reallllly just had to do those things. I rubbed his back and told him I totally get it. Sometimes you just have to do it. Amiright??

When Logan was an infant and I thought about how rocking him to sleep would cause bad sleep habits for him I thought I was doing what was best for us. And I was. He is a great sleeper 98% of the time. I'm not sure if not rocking him to sleep is why he's such a good sleeper, but now that he's asking to be rocked, even if just for 5 minutes, I wish I had spent more time doing that while he was an infant and not worried about what kind of habit, if any, it was forming. Most of his babiness is gone. He's a full blown toddler now and those moments when I get to rock him allow us to sink back into a bliss that existed in his infancy. It's a little different, especially now that he's the one telling me stories, yet perfect. Perfect that I am not so sleep deprived or, dare I say, selfish to say no and make him go to sleep without a rock. Tonight, I have a raging case of tonsillitis and no amount of pain, sickness, or lack of sleep could have kept me from our rock time together.