Last night I took a page from the Bad Mama Handbook, and it was SO good. Usually we start our bedtime routine at 7, and it involves bath, then I nurse and rock Luke for awhile before putting him in his crib. But last night, I ignored the clock, and I ignored quiet time before bed. Instead, we shrieked and giggled. We blew raspberries on each other. We ran and laughed until our sides hurt. We talked about dinosaurs and practiced our best ROARs. We even jumped on the bed.
I got into the shower later than usual, and I made my way into bed much later than usual, but every minute was worth it for the side-splitting laughs and the joy of just being us.
Lately, he has started to look at me and say, "My Mama," and it makes my heart grow larger than I thought possible, because nothing, nothing in this world could be better than being his.