It’s been a rough week around here, and we’re only halfway through. I won’t bore you with the details—I’ll just say it’s centered around Big G, and there’s a lot of Miralax involved, and then some vomiting. Good times.
Tonight I took the boys back to their room and set my pillow next to Big G’s bed. I figured I’d lay there for a few minutes, let everyone get settled.
Little G felt left out (after all, I was a whole seven feet away from him) and meandered over. He plopped his not-really-a-pillow-pet next to me and snuggled into me. The tension of the day left his body as he exhaled a big sigh.
It was one of those sweet moments I relish as a mom—a boy on each side of me, the stress of the day momentarily forgotten.
Then I heard Little G’s voice whisper, “I love you, pillow pet.”
Hee. My kids are fantastic. When they aren’t puking, that is. Okay, they’re still awesome when they are puking, but I vastly prefer the non-puking versions.