you were sick today

you were sick today.

not terribly sick, but sick enough to skip church and spend the day chewing cheerios and watching a real housewives of atlanta marathon with me. 

you've been throwing up in the mornings and running a low grade fever, but of course you're still my sunshine baby, laughing and playing, even with no appetite. 

you went to bed at seven.

i turned off your light, shut your door quietly and crept downstairs.

after your daddy and i ate dinner, we heard you crying. 

i took your temperature again; your fever was back.

i pulled you out of the crib, where you were sitting and crying.

we read a book, you sucked on your pacifier

we rocked, i sang 

you flipped over to lay on my chest

you tucked your head into my shoulder 

i could feel your eyelashes flutter softly against my cheek.

it has been so long since you slept like this, laying on me so trustingly and relaxed.

you are no longer a newborn, limbs tucked up into a ball as you sleep on my chest

sleep is no longer your second nature and you never fall asleep in my arms these days.

you prefer to sleep alone, but tonight you need me, want me

toddler legs and arms splayed out

a small blueberry stain on your cheek that i missed after dinner

sweaty hair sticking to your fevered forehead

we rock and rock and rock

long after i am convinced you are asleep,

i lay you back down in your bed because you are a big boy

but here's this:

if you need me, i will hold you all night long.