A few minutes later, he was standing at my feet again. This time he literally turned my body facing him and then stretched his arms out up in front of him, as if he wanted me to pick him up. He didn't say a word, he just looked at me with his big puppy dog eyes and silently begged me to hold him. I will admit that right then and there, my heart melted into a puddle. And so I stopped what I was doing, and hoisted up my 40lb 3 y/o, he wrapped his long legs around me and squeezed my neck as tightly as he could. We stood there in the kitchen hugging for a good 3 minutes. The bacon was starting to burn and the pancakes were getting cold. But I didn't care.
In that moment, he needed me.
And what I realized more than anything, was that I needed him. I needed that tender moment.
I've been pretty open and honest on this blog about Bennett, and the difficulties that we have. He's a high energy, hyper-sensitive kid, and you add a speech delay in the mix -- it can all add up to a lot of frustrating times. But, I think I take for granted the sweet moments. The ones where he shows outstanding manners by saying "please" and "thank you" all day. The ones when he hears his brother crying and runs to console him with a kiss or a hug. The days when he is an exceptional listener. The moments of pure joy and giddyness when he sees his Daddy come home. The moments when he reaches for me to pick him up, and just wants to take a minute to snuggle.
... Well after my arms started to go numb from holding my enormous child in my arms, I set him on the counter and told him I loved him, and that he was such a good boy. He grabbed my face and pulled me in, gave me a huge kiss on the mouth and then happily went on his way.
All it takes is five little minutes, nestled in a day full of crazyness and tantrums, to remind me that it's a two way street. He needs those sweet tender moments just as much as I do. We can help each other remember what it's all about.