I just put Lego to bed. This involves a bath, followed by lotion, diaper, and pajamas. Then I transfer him to Jon Boy, who reads him a book and brushes his teeth (we switch jobs every other night).
After that, Lego and I go into the dark bedroom to nurse. While he eats, I listen to the sounds of him swallowing, knowing that I am both nourishing him and comforting him with my body. I hold or stroke his hands. I smell his freshly washed hair and look at the lovely curve of his baby cheek in the faint light. I rub his back and then cup the back of his head, just above his neck, in my hand. His head is so small, and the hair on it is so fine and soft.
When he finally falls asleep, I climb out of bed and lift him so that his head rests on my shoulder and my arm fits under his butt and legs. His limp weight rests on me, and I relish the snuggle that he is usually too wiggly to give me when he’s awake. I put him in his crib on his back, and he inevitably rolls over to lie in a kneeling position, his head turned to one side. Once he does this, I put on his blankets and give him a kiss.
These are the moments I will remember when he is grown, not the temper tantrums or the times when I said no and he didn’t listen. These are the moments that make it all worthwhile.