Beautiful Boy (Daddy Bloggin')

Even a 4-year old finds it hard to get out of bed on a Monday morning.

I tread quietly into the bedroom, lean down and whisper. "Time to get up big boy."

Curled snugly and almost lost under the big down comforter, his well-worn stuffed sheep clutched tightly to his chest, he is the definition of peaceful repose. Carefree. Pure.

Slowly, his big lashes arch up, revealing crystalline, sleep-filled blue eyes. "I'm still tired," he whispers back.

"I know. I'm sorry, but we gotta get up."

Rising slowly, he puts both fists to his eyes to try and rub away the night. Make sense of where he is now. Glances around. Everything is in its place, right where it should be.

Then, wordlessly, he holds both arms out. This is my cue.

I scoop him up slowly, gently, finding that perfect spot we have where we fit together like pieces of a well-refined jigsaw puzzle. He wraps his arms around my neck, laying his head on my right shoulder.

And then, like clockwork, the best part of my day.

He gently inclines his head upward, kisses me lightly on the cheek. I stop at the top of the stairwell, return the kiss. He giggles as my beard tickles his cheek. We squeeze each other as tight as we can, his tiny, fragile body like a warm blanket against my chest.

He snuggles back in for the ride downstairs. Another day is underway.