Snuggle Bug

One of the best parts of having a baby is having a warm little person snuggle right into your arms. Whether he's wiggling and crying and snurfling and getting various bodily fluids all over your shoulder while he's doing it, or whether he's quietly nodding off and sleepily fading into you with a soft hug, it's the most wonderful feeling in the world.

One of the things that makes it feel so wonderful is how perfectly trusting the baby is. He can relax in the knowledge that you will protect and take care of him, and that he is completely safe in your arms. And doesn't it feel wonderful to be trusted like that? It's a heavy responsibility, but also a great honor. I want to do everything I can to live up to that trust.

So while Ryan is snuggling under my chin, I am thinking about his future. I am planning on how I will teach him skills, like walking and reading, and how I will teach him manners and courtesy. I am planning on how to answer his questions like, "Why is the sky blue?" and "Who is God?" and "Where did I come from?" and "Why do people have to die?" I am thinking about what I'll say if he doesn't make the team, or if he flunks a test, or if his best friend ditches him, or if his girlfriend breaks up with him. I am thinking about what I'll say when he does make the team, or ace a test, or make a new best friend, or introduce me to his girlfriend. I'm imagining what he'll be like on vacation this summer, and next summer, and endless summers to come. I'm picturing him at 6 months old, and 6 years old, and 16 years old.

And I am mentally promising him that I will be there for him for all of those moments, joys and sorrows, successes and failures, loves and losses. And some of them I'll be able to help, and some of them will see me standing helplessly by. But I will be there, loving him, no matter what.

Because he'll always be my little snuggle bug.