We piled into Adam’s room: me, Nathan, and the dog.
“Too light!” came his cry from the crib as light poured in from the hallway. Nathan ran to shove the door shut and then to settle into his “cozy corner” of the room, hunkering down between the glider and the nightstand. I hoisted my bleary-eyed toddler from his crib and set him on the floor.
“Hi, Riley. Hi!” he said, remarkably cheerful for his first 15 seconds of the day.
I sat down, and Adam promptly backed onto my lap. I chuckled to myself, wondering why he never walked to me to turn and sit down. Nope, it’s always a back-up, like a semi reversing into its dock.
I began the routine of unzipping his sleep sack and footed pjs, pulling out his arms and legs, hanging it on the giraffe coat rack behind us. He’s usually a difficult one to get dressed (strong willed about what he will and will not do in any given moment), but today’s process was going smoothly.
“Licking! Licking!” Adam squealed as Riley slobbered her tongue over the toes on his left foot. He proceeded to plop that foot down and pick up his right foot, presenting it to her like a prize. Riley, never one to pass up free skin to lick, obliged.
More squeals. Pure delight. And so he continued through his body parts: left hand, right hand, belly, left knee, right knee.
Satisfied about his morning bath, Adam looked up at me, “Me clothes. Me do clothes.”
It’s his tiny voice, the way he has begun to string words together, the ease of dressing him today, the joy in a dog’s like, the 5 extra minutes with my boys. It’s the tiny pockets of our day that hold the most goodness.