Rocking

My baby Zeke is 4 years old and he still loves to be rocked before bed. I am so glad for this. Mostly he only lets his Daddy rock him. Or, "wock" him, as he says. But some evenings I am lucky enough to have a few quiet moments rocking him, holding him in my lap, snuggling my face against his and soaking in the last bit of little boy sweetness. I sing to him too. Golden Slumbers, Sleep Baby Sleep, Jesus Loves Me. And he sings along with me usually. It is a treasure to my heart to spend these moments with him.

A few nights ago as he was getting settled in for me to rock him, he remarked, "Mom, I wike when you wock me better than Daddy."  "Oh really?", I asked, doubtful. (because normally he's all Daddy all the time.) "Yes", he replied as he snuggled into my chest, rested a cheek and looked up at me, "because you have these big muscles and Daddy doesn't."

So, yep. I think he's going to be a boob man.