Bedtime with Otis is my favorite, and this is my scrapbook of memories so…
Me: Sweet dreams.
Otis: Sweet dreams.
Me: Good night, sleep tight.
Otis: Good night.
Me: Don’t let the bed bugs bite.
Back in the day Otis would fall asleep holding on to my neck. Kinda like this:
He would hold me like I was his toy. This is probably not the worst description of our relationship’s dynamic, but that’s neither here nor there.
As he drifted to sleep he would whisper, “Hold you, Mommy. Hold you.” And he’d wrap his chubby little arms completely around my neck and start snoring.
It was bliss.
Lately he’s been giving me different orders.
He rolls to his side facing the other wall, and I’ll hug and kiss him as he giggles. (Mark accuses me of “riling him up” with this activity. I call it “loving our child properly.” #tomato #potato) Then Otis gets tired and, politely, but firmly, whispers, “Turn around, Mommy. Go to sleep, Mommy.”
Oh. Ok. Well, I’ll be right over here then…
My favorite bedtime activity is asking him who he wants to pray for that night. Some of his more humorous suggestions include:
- Santa Claus
- Caillou’s mom
- Bobby’s wife (I prayed for her and then Otis ended with, “Where are you?????”)
The other night, out of nowhere, he curls into me and wraps his arms around my neck like old times. He’s so big now. But he still fits. The Scientific Journal of Motherhood suggests he’ll always fit.
He snuggles in real close and whispers in my ear, “This is perfect.”
Yes, Little Bear. This is perfect.