A Tale of Toes

It’s 2 a.m. I would be asleep except for the foot in my back that’s slowly moving me off the edge of my bed. I’m clinging to the edge of my mattress, but losing ground. Sure he had a nightmare and I’m happy to comfort him, but enough is enough! Somewhat annoyed, I reach back to move the intruding appendage, and my hand closes around a rumply sock covering a perfectly toasty set of three-year-old toes. 

Suddenly, I’m taken back to another time when these toes in my bed kept me awake. I can’t help but smile as I remember Christmas Eve when these little piggies were only five months old. Grandma’s house definitely wasn’t as warm of a climate as he was used to sleeping in. I couldn’t blame him for fussing. I was frozen even snuggled up to my husband. So without question I brought baby into bed with us, and then laid there not wanting to fall asleep. Enjoying the peaceful bliss of knowing my whole little family was safe and snug in the same bed as me. Knowing there would come a day when I would lay awake worrying about where he was, if he was safe, if he was warm, I soaked up the image of his little sleeping face only inches from mine.

Back to the present I gently place the little boy foot away from my spine, but then roll over to tuck him in and admire that sleeping face once again – grateful to know he’s close, safe, and content.