The kiss
This morning, pre-kblogger slept late and I needed to get to work so after reading Ladybug magazine on the couch with him I pulled myself away and put on the TV. Huge guilt for offering up TV instead of following through on his request for another book, but I had to go.
Little Bear came on and pre-kblogger turned his attention to the TV. Unfortunately, the show ended halfway through getting dressed and pre-kblogger wanted me to snuggle. So I stopped putting on makeup and cuddled him for a while. But in the back of my mind I could hear the tick tick of the clock. I’ve got to go. I wanted to stay there all morning. But instead of enjoying this sliver of time with him I was counting the seconds, thinking of that scene in When Harry Met Sally when Billy Crystal can never figure out how long someone needs to be held. So I sat there wondering is this long enough? A few seconds more, is this? And then eventually I peeled myself away.
At 10:15 I was dressed and ready to go. Pre-kblogger saw me reach for my bag and asked for one more story. “I’m sorry sweetie Mommy has to go.”
“Ok, bye,” he said with a droop in his voice and followed me outside to watch the powershovel dig out the foundation on the lot that’s being converted to 8 apartments across the street.
“Have a great day,” I said and kissed him goodbye. He waved and watched me go. Once I was across the street he called out: “A kiss. Mommy. A kiss.” This was a sweet ritual he does with nannyblogger in the evening where he calls her back three or four times for encore smooches.
And now it was my turn. He stood there, waiting, looking tall and suddenly very grown up. So much of his baby face was gone, his neck was longer, his cheeks still round but more defined by cheekbone than baby fat. Yesterday, at his parent teacher conference his teacher had commented on how she could see him maturing in his face and looking at him now I saw what she meant even with sleep in his eyes, bedhead hair and still wearing his dumpster truck PJs at 10:20 in the morning.
When I reached him, I kissed him on the lips and his little mouth kissed me back. He was full of intention. This wasn’t the stolen, wriggling kiss of a rambunctious preschooler. This kiss had purpose and he was present. I thought of all the girls he would want to kiss this way and I felt lucky that today this kiss was for me, it was ours. Tears welled up in my eyes but I made sure he didn’t see them by turning away back towards the street. He called out after me, “Make sure Daddy meets you at the station.”
“Ok,” I said and kept on walking.