Four Minutes.

Saturday was rough.  The morning started with thirty minutes of whining because breakfast wasn't right.  This was followed by whining about underwear not fitting well, the loss of "the head" at least 10 times, not wanting to take a much-needed nap.  The lawn mower didn't work correctly in the yard.  He couldn't find his boots. His boots hurt his feet. He wouldn't wear any other shoes despite the boots-hurting-the-feet.  He wanted what Mimi had. He wanted her to play with him. He wanted her to leave him alone. He wanted Haddie to play outside with him. It was so rough of a day that I repeatedly asked him if he felt bad, felt his little forehead to see if he had a fever. He hasn't had a rough day like that in a long time, and it would've made sense for him to be coming down with something. It was the kind of day that made Marty and I look at each other and shake our heads, trade back and forth with handling each consecutive meltdown. By that evening, we were both worn down, parenting with the give-in style that I hate but always resort to because sometimes it's just easier not to fight it. His final alarm in his bedtime routine had been set and gone off, and yet there he was, tearful, standing at our bedroom door, asking to snuggle with me.  I gave in. I turned off the lights, made room for him on the other side of the bed. I made promises that this was the ABSOLUTE LAST thing he was doing that night, or else Tofu and Elsa would be sleeping in my room.

And then it happened.

Instead of staying on his side, like usual, avoiding any kind of physical contact, he scooted his little warm body next to me, putting his head on my pillow. His sweet face inches from mine. His little chubby feet burrowing in between my knees for warmth. I kissed his cheeks because it was impossible not to, and whispered, "I love you so much..."

He replied, uncharacteristically, "I love you too!" with a smile.

I said, "You are my favorite boy..."

He whispered, "And you're my girl. Will you always be my girl?"

"Forever and ever."

We giggled and tickled and loved, and for those four minutes (on the nose; I set the timer), there was no rough day. There were no tantrums or arguments or lost toys. It was just me and my favorite boy.  Four of the absolute most valuable minutes of my entire life. Four minutes to remind me of what is real and important in life.

I love him so.