Bedfellow

Another morning of snow here in Hoboken, but this time, I was a little smarter about avoiding a "can we build a snowman!" meltdown. I did something pretty revolutionary. That's right. I kept the curtains closed. They got through dressing and breakfast and had no idea there even was any snow. I know, she's smart, isn't she? It only takes me a dozen times of getting it wrong to eventually get it right.

Anyway, it was all for nought as Toddler Drama came a little earlier this morning. I woke up today to feel the four rubber wheels of a monster truck digging into my lower back. At some point, Julian had moved into our room with his Hot Wheels and had turned our bed into a queen-size Auto Mall.

"Julian, why don't we pack these up and we can have breakfast?"

"NO!!!"

Hmm, OK. "Julian, want to help me make waffles?"

"NO!!!"

What else? "Julian, there's a surprise for you in the kitchen." Now I was skating on thin ice. There was nothing of the sort for him in the kitchen. I would have to improvise fast if he went for this one. But he didn't.

"NO!!!"

Then his voice wound up like a siren, starting quiet and then blaring. "I want you to staaaay in the bed with MEEEE!!!!"

Oy vey.

Since getting rid of the pacifier, he's demanded I sleep with him at night, which I refuse, after way too much cajoling and singing of "Rock-a-Bye Baby". So he's started to find me in the morning and demand quality time in the A.M. under the covers with Mom. And all I want to do is get going with the morning. Snuggling is hard for me at that point. But if I make for the door, he has this way of completely melting, his lips curling out and his whole face cracking and his little body quivering and the tears spurting that I can't bear to see, so I stay with him. Snuggle, snuggle, snuggle. OK, should we eat now? [I know, you're reading this and thinking, "Man, is she a sucker." I know.]

When he's 15 years old and doesn't want to have anything to do with me, won't hold my hand or hug or kiss me, won't sit near me on the couch or even want to be seen with me in public, I'll look back on these morning snuggles and I will hardly be able to believe he ever wanted to curl up in bed with me. He won't believe it either. If it didn't feel so pornographic, I'd probably even have my husband take a picture of us snuggling together amid the mini inventory of the Auto Mall.

Today, it only takes him a few minutes to recharge his 'Mommy battery', as I call it, and then he pops up in bed. I'm hopeful. Now we can get on with breakfast. That's when he says:

"Where's my surprise?!"

Oy vey. How do I always do this to myself?