I had a moment today.
And then Finn padded up to me in his little footie pajamas, his blanket trailing behind him like Linus. "What special thing are we going to do today, Momma?" he asked. And time just stopped. I had one of those moments, where he suddenly appeared to me, this real boy, my son, and I thought: how did he get so big?
It is as if I don't know how to operate if I'm not under pressure. Somehow I associate being chronically busy with importance, relevance. There is plenty of time. Plenty of time to snuggle and play, plenty of time to get the errands done. And the world won't stop revolving if I don't get to everything, I would just like to think it would, because in some bizarre way that makes me think I matter.
"I want to play a game wif you," he said. "When you're done wif your work."
"How about now?" I said. "How about playing a game now?"
He beamed, and ran to get Ned's Head, his favorite game. I watched him run, soaking in the very boyness of him, trying to preserve the moment in my mind. I never take time to just see him. It is as if his image slips and slides in front of me, morphing from the baby he was to the grown man he will become.
But right now? He's four and a half and he loves me without question and it is incredible.
Right now is pretty incredible.