Maybe I Should Just Give In

I was awakened a little before six o'clock this morning. Baby E was calling for me. I lumbered down the hall and opened the door to his room. He was standing up in his crib, hair wild and curly from sleep.

"Milk." It was more of a demand than a question. I was hoping just to plop him in my bed and catch another hour of sleep, but drinking milk meant he'd probably be wide awake. Regardless, we went down to the kitchen and got him some milk, which he grabbed and gulped right away.

Hopeful, I took him back to my bed and plopped him in. He lay down on the pillow between Hubby and me, thirstily drinking his milk. I closed my eyes and closed an arm around his tiny waist.

I felt a little knock on my arm. He was giving me his empty sippy cup. I set it on the nightstand and waited for the assault to begin. Usually, when he is in my bed, he sees it as a huge playground. He giggles and throws himself around on the big soft mattress, slamming his big toddler head right into my brow bone (do they teach them that at fetus school - I mean how much does that hurt??).

But this time, he snuggled in as close to my body as he could get. I could feel his sweet, cold, milky breath on my face, and soon he was asleep again.

We've never been traditional co-sleepers, but this last little kid has given me the biggest argument for it. He has probably slept in our bed - for at least part of the night - more than any of the other boys combined. Perhaps it is because I know he is my last, so I realize these tiny little snuggles are fleeting. He will turn two in a couple weeks, and he's already getting a little too big for his 2T britches. I'll take the snuggles for as long as I can get them. . .

I have a short little post on Mamalode about fleeting moments like the one above. Before you go, tell me, do/did you co-sleep? Do you let your kids come into your bed when they are scared or lonely?

Thanks for reading!

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