Tonight Jude did not want to go to bed.  He stood at the bottom of his ladder balking.  “I am not tired!  I don’t WANT to go to bed!” I knew this statement to be untrue because a. He did not have a nap today and b. He had JUST told me, “Mama?  I tired.” I offered to climb up into his top bunk to snuggle for a minute, and never have I seen his little legs move faster.  He was at the top of the ladder lickety split and inviting me up before I knew it.  I climbed up and lay down next to him, he reached out his chubby little hand, touching my hair.  “I love you mama,” Jude was laying on his side, half asleep when he said this.
“I love you too, Jude.”
“No, I LOVE you, Mama,” he countered.
“Aww, Jude, I know.  I love you too!” I answered.
“Cept, mama?  I REALLY love YOU,” he sat up and said this while looking me right in the eye.
And then I knew what he really meant.  I knew he meant that he loved me so much right then that he felt like his heart was going to burst.  He loved me so much that it surprised him, that he felt there was no way that I could know the depth of his love, that the level of love he was capable of couldn’t be comprehended by me.   He loved me so completely that he wanted to gaze at me, keep me in his thrall, he wanted to kiss me and compliment me.
“Thank you, Jude.”  And I meant it.  I couldn’t be more thankful for his love.
He followed it up with, “Cept you’re cute, too.  And your a good one.  Not a bad guy.  Cept I love you with giraffes and sharks.”
I wasn’t exactly sure about how giraffes and sharks fit into our relationship, but I also noticed his eyes were half closed and droopy.  His face was mashed into his blanket when he suddenly sat up and looked at me.  “You stay, Mama?”. Never, in his whole life, has Jude chosen me for his comfort person.  It has always been Bradley, so of course I couldn’t turn away this invitation.
“Yes, Jude, I’ll stay until you fall asleep.” He dozily looked at me and laid his head back down, a smile turning the corner of his mouth.  He did that several times, assuring me each time that he “REALLY” loved me before he fell asleep: picking his head up to be sure I was still in his bed, a smile, a kiss, a compliment or expression of love and down his head would go again.  Finally, his breath became measured and he was out.
I didn’t want to leave the embrace of my little baby boy and his baby boy breath, the beads of sweat on his little brow, sticky fingers working his blanket over.  But there was a sweet little girl to see to, and I had to slip out of his little heaven and into hers.


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