Being Stingy

I never thought of myself as a stingy person. I guess now that I look back on it, that description probably fits. But only for a few things. My husband, my time with God, and my Little Buddy.

Ah, my Little Buddy. I am stingy with him. I can't wait to get up in the mornings and be the first to wake him up with snuggles, tickles, and telling him I love him. I love to tuck him into bed each night, read books, say prayers, and snuggle a little more.

This is our time. Before he grows older. While I am still the most important woman in his life.

I wonder when he's older if he'll look back on his younger years and cherish these moments as much as I do now.

I know I can't hold on too tightly. I have to let him be a boy. I have to let him grow up. But it just seems like yesterday we were bringing him home from the hospital. Jaundiced and colicy. We rocked. We snuggled. We loved. I would hold him all night long. Just rocking.

I said it was because of the colic. That's partly true. The other part is more basic. More primal. I was afraid.

I had prayed for this little boy for seven years. My heart had been broken over and over from babies lost and those I'd dreamed about. God had finally granted me my request for a child of my own. In His time. He knew. He knew the child I needed. The child that was perfect for me. He sent Little Buddy to be our son. Straight from heaven.

I know now - or admit - that I was afraid for him to be away from me during the night. What if something happened? What if I woke up and it was just a dream?

We slept that way for longer than I care to admit. To me, those are some of the sweetest nights of my life. Just us - rocking.

So, I admit it. I'm stingy. His first laugh of the morning and last kiss of the day are mine. All mine.