He doesn’t visit anymore …
He doesn’t visit me in the early hours of the morning anymore, curling into my body for a cuddle and warmth. I don’t get to nuzzle my nose into his hair.
He’s too busy playing with the dogs and eating as much cereal as possible these days to come and visit my bed.
He’s 6 and doesn’t need me as much as he used to.
He still lets me hold his hand when we go out. He thinks nothing of a cuddle on the sofa and at the dinner table he always wants to sit next to me. He’s quiet and hates being the centre of attention and because of that we sometimes underestimate him. Every day he comes out with a fact and every day I ask him where he learnt that … “I just know it” he says. He has a wicked, deadpan, sense of humour, which reduces us to tears.
He’s growing into a funny, caring, mischievous, always-moving little-big boy.
At night, before he goes to sleep, I climb into bed beside him for a cuddle. I snuggle up and nuzzle my nose in his hair. That is the moment when he tells me about his day. Never before, nor after, always at bedtime.
He still needs me, and I him
