Morning Hugs and Slugs

The morning crib retrieval of Baby Dude is one of the highlights of my day. There is some definite crying involved, but not sad, tearful crying. It's more of an annoyed "Get-me-out-of-this-cage!" cry. Sometimes I'm glad he's not talking yet.

It takes me awhile to convince the awake part of my brain that he really isn't going to stop making all that racket, but eventually I get it, and drag my body out of bed. Lil' Miss who's been up for HOURS now, reading the paper and getting her personal things in order, is either right on my tail reminding me, "Mom. Mom. MOM! He's cry-ing!" or she's already IN the crib with him, bouncing away like a circus performer.

At first sight of me, he is smiling and doing his fancy footwork in the crib. I can't help but wonder if he's really excited to see me or if I'm just his ticket out of this place. I try to make small talk with him ("Hi, my boy! Did you have a good night's sleep? How'ya doin', little man!"), but he is clearly uninterested. He wants OUT! He's whimpering and clawing at my arms, those mechanical cranes able to hoist him up, over, and into freedom. I reach in, scoop him up under his arms, and begin the ascent. But just as his hands are within reach of my neck, he grabs on and hugs me tightly, his chubby little arms squeezed around my neck and his cheek smooshed up into mine. He is even moaning a little, like a dog being scratched behind the ear.

I soak it in and let my heart melt in my chest. This hug is pure joy and I relish in it. I squeeze him back, trying to hold on to whatever I can of this moment. It's important to take it in, enjoy it while I can, because in just a few seconds he's going to lean back, give me one of his toothy grins that could launch a thousand ships, and slug me right in the mouth.