The making of a memory.

I can't remember when this started. I know that Anthony was already here...which might explain why it started...

My nightly routine with Matthew (when daddy is not home in time for bedtime):

He finishes watching his "show" (Spongebob. Don't judge me.), if he hasn't already, he brushes his teeth, and then he gathers up the random items he deems worthy to sleep on his nightstand that evening. He hops on his bed, I turn off the light, and he comes to find me on the glider. He crawls on my lap, giving me the biggest, warmest hug you could ever wish for, and we briefly talk about his day. I always ask him if he had a good day, we talk about what we might do tomorrow, and then I sing Twinkle Twinkle, followed by Baby Boy (a song my husband made up when Matthew was just a newborn). We slowly rock back and forth, I scratch his back, and I sing. Then I carry him "like a baby" to his bed, where he finds Blue Blankie and Baby Bear. I tuck him in, kiss him goodnight, and go back to my comfy glider to sing Twinkle Twinkle and Baby Boy once more. "Night night Matthew, I love you." "Night night mommy, I love you, too...one more Twinkle Twinkle and one more Baby Boy." "Sure baby...".

It seems like a drawn out event, and there are nights when I wish I could fast-forward a little. But I know the nights will come where I wish I could re-wind. So for now, I'll rock him, and sing, and savor this memory in the making.