This little boy traced my face while I was sleeping this morning. I knew it was him before I opened my eyes.
Once I did, he giggled and ran away.
I’m sure he was confused why I was still in bed at 7 am.
I’ve been sick and yesterday I tried to explain to him that mommy wasn’t feeling well.
After I told him he tapped on his chest, showing me his teal striped shirt.
He must have dressed himself. He was proud.
We both clapped and then he pointed to his feet. He wanted socks.
It’s hard not knowing what he understands. Most of the time he won’t give me any indication either.
But this morning, he climbed in my bed and traced my face. And for longer than a second. That’s how he communicates when it’s really important.
Touch. Reminding us to slow down and feel and listen with more than our ears.
I felt him go over my forehead, nose, eyes, cheeks and chin before eventually cupping my right side with his hand.
That’s a big deal for him. He’s not one to go touching anybody for no good reason.
When I came down later he smiled, waved and asked me for Cheetos and a juice.
All is right with his world. Mom’s up.
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