On 4 AM and Eye Contact

It’s about 4:30 AM, which means we’ve been up for some time.

Chatting.

He doesn’t get cranky, which I am grateful for, he just gets … bored? Or maybe inspired. Whatever it is, it’s struck at about 4 AM for a couple of weeks and kept us both up for a little while.

The positive side of Husband not working is that I don’t feel obligated to take Meatball into the next room for our chat tonight. We get to stay in bed. When Husband does wake up from the noise, he doesn’t seem to mind very much.

His revelation tonight was a simple one, or at least one simply explained because he’s winding down fairly quickly. The pacifier stays in his mouth. Little fists start rubbing little eyes. A yawn breaks free.

I lay my head on the mattress next to him and gently stroke his head with my fingertips. He likes this (Who doesn’t?), and he rolls from his back to his side to give me and the scalp massage his full, albeit waning, attention.

It’s dark in the bedroom, but his perfect little face is only inches from mine, and I’m sure that those big, dark eyes can see mine because they’re locked. Me watching him – smelling his breath, listening to it get deeper and slower – and him staring back at me.

He reaches out with his free hand, the one not pressed between his little frame and the bedsheets, and touches my face – cheek, nose, mouth. He settles on my lips, and gently squeezes the top one, never breaking eye contact.

I smile, kiss his fingers, whisper that I love him. He takes a deep breath and his eyelids start to sink. Down, down … Once closed they snap half-open again, but quickly drop closed again. His grip loosens. His arm drifts slowly to land right in front of that sweet, sleepy face.

I watch him for another moment, breathe deep – inhaling as much of Thursday at 4:30 AM as I possibly can – whisper one more, “I love you, Baby,” in case I didn’t meet my hourly quota, and close my eyes as well.

A couple of months ago I dreaded night time. Now, I live for 4 AM.