Wednesday, April 1, 2009

And we danced

Most days I find it amusing that it sounds like I'm transporting a children's choir in my car, and that it looks like I'm ushering in a gang of little people when we make an errand stop.

Sprinkled among most days are those few days when my ears ache for silence while driving and I daydream about jumping out of the car, whizzing into a store and dashing out with my two items in under 20 minutes.

After a non-stop chattering, singing, bickering kind of morning and a not-so-quick jaunt into Home Depot, today was deemed one of those few days. And then ...

While putting Trace in bed for his nap, he stood up and reached his arms out for me. Knowing immediately what he wanted, I picked him up and he wrapped his arms as tightly around my neck and shoulders as his little arms could manage.

You see, we do this some nights when putting him to bed and hearing a "good" song on his bedroom radio. We dance. We twirl around his room, cheek to cheek, swaying to the music.

During our bedroom dances, time seems to stand still. There are no worries about baskets full of dirty laundry, others waiting to be kissed goodnight or toys strewn throughout the house. We dance, just the two of us.

In the few minutes a song might last, I attempt to take in every bit of him and etch in my memory the moment. I'm well aware our dances are limited. In just a few years, dancing with his mother will be the last thing he wants to do, and in a couple decades we could be sharing a dance on his wedding day.

Apparently, he found this afternoon's song dance-worthy, and so we sauntered around his room like a mother chimp with her baby tightly clinging on. Not a word spoken, just swaying and spinning. And once our dance was over, he laid his head down, got tucked in and drifted off.

(For anyone wondering, it was Jake Owen's "Don't Think I Can't Love You" which prompted our inaugural pre-nap dance.)

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