Baby of Mine.

Tonight, Brock got scared. He went to bed, and about twenty minutes later, I heard him upstairs crying and calling my name. I walked up to his room and opened the door to find my tiny little boy sitting in his bed with a few tears streaming down his cheeks. "You lay here, mommy?" he proposes. How can I refuse? I walk over and get in his full size bed and lie next to him. He tries to cover himself with the little fleece baby blanket that he prefers to the huge navy blue and green plaid down comforter meant for the bed, "it's stuck, mommy." Oops, I have laid on the corner. So, we get the baby blanket situated, and Brock rolls over to face the wall, hugging his two Giraffees. "You stay here?" He asks of me. And I say, "Of course, sweetie, I love you." And, without moving or looking at me, he just replies, "I love you too, mommy." And to that, I move in closer, so I can cuddle all 30 pounds and kiss the cheek of my oldest baby boy. We just lay there for a few minutes. I can feel potential tears welling up in my eyes; what emotion provokes this response? Pure happiness? Relaxation? Reassurance that my independent 2.5 year old still needs his mommy? Just love? Whatever it is, I hope it never goes away. I hope in the future, though they may become fewer and farther between, I still have the opportunity to shed a tear over sweet moments with this baby of mine. Goodnight, sweet Brock.