Little Man Sleeping

Today was a day. Nothing extraordinarily tiring or anything, but at the end of the day I just felt weary. If anything, the day was long.

I get home with enough time to sit long enough for the tiredness to creep forth. The Mrs. and the little one arrive. He gets to play. She decides to make dinner. I’m allowed to sit and stare for a bit.

When his dinner is ready, Its my turn to fed him. He sits in my lap. Already the day is better. He eats. I can tell he’s tired.

After the meal we wash his hands, brush his teeth and the Mrs. turns the light down low. I lift him up so that he is basically laying on my belly and chest. In what seems like moments his arms and legs go heavy and loose. His breathing gets deeper and his head rolls slightly.

I relax, enjoying the feeling of cuddling my son.

Then its time to stand, trying not to jerk him around too much, and slip him into his own bed.

I’m still tired, but I’m also more at piece with that.

What strange power children have.

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