Working in my office this morning and making a plan for the day in my jammies and housecoat, hot coffee with the music on. The middle boy shuffles in, mumbles a good morning, and cuddles up on the couch. A song came on, and in my dark office, in the glow of the computer light and the street lamp softly illuminating the room, I could see his eyes looking at me through the dimness.
“Good morning! Do you want to dance with me?”, I asked excitedly.
He giggled and shoved his face into the pillow. Reluctantly, he let me grab his hands, but won’t lift his body off of the couch. So I began to sing and sway in my big fluffy housecoat while waving his long arms back and forth. He laughs a giant smile and lets me pull him up.
I turned away to turn up the music, and then we danced an energetic, laughing, smiling dance while holding my sweet man-child’s tender hands. His limp noodle arms resisted just as any eleven year old’s arm should resist their mother’s. His head lay back in exasperation and his mouth agape in false objection, muttering the ‘gaahhh’ sounds that I’ve come to know and love so well as his mother. But I knew that despite his protests he was elated to dance with me in the misty lamplight in my mother’s uniform of jammies and ferocious bed head.
And so we danced, holding hands, but each in our own moment of letting the music begin our day. He on the upbeat, me on the down, giggling because we were only touching with our hands, but our knees kept bumping together. The rhythm warm and inviting, he began to smile and laugh and move with the music. When the song slowed I pulled him close, held my right hand up, put my left hand on his shoulder, and said,
“Ok, now you be the man!” He paused for a second, looked up at me from under his lashes with his enormous blue eyes that I can see right through on a clear day, and said with a quiet voice,
“I don’t know how…”, and looked earnestly into my eyes.
My heart squeezed so tightly I thought it would come undone.
“That’s ok.”, I said.
A few beats pass between us with our feet still on the carpet, facing each other in our embrace. I lifted his chin up, squishing his smooth boy-cheeks with my thumb and fingers to make his lips pucker and illicit a giggle.
“It will come to you.” I say softly with my voice full of love, and give him a smooch.
And so we danced.