I examine Cole's perfect features: his beautiful profile, his long charcoal lashes soft against his cheek, his well-shaped mouth slack in sleep. His eyelids flutter in his dreams, his cheeks are rosy red - the only reminder of my rambunctious and energetic boy is the dirt that remains caked under his fingernails.
I never see him so still and quiet anymore. He is a bundle of energy, moving quickly from one activity to the next, never walking if he can run and never sitting if he can jump. He is a chatterbox, full of questions and always-louder nonsense noises. His favorite companions are his daddy and his dogs; his favorite toys are dirt and water.
I wonder at his dreams - are they full of rough and tumble play like his waking moments are? I marvel at his ability to do everything with such focus and passion - playing, running, eating, sleeping.
I turn to my second son, my baby. His face in slumber is not as surprising to me, having studied it for hours while snuggled to my breast. He, too, flutters his eyelids as dreams fill his mind. I can't wait to watch him as he tags after his older brother, following along as they run and jump and get dirty together... yet at the same time, I want to keep him always tiny and snuggly, perfectly fitting in my arms and sleeping peacefully.
The moment doesn't last long. Within just a few minutes, Chase is up and fretfully fussing to nurse. Carefully, without waking Cole, I slip from the bed and bring him downstairs.
I know these peaceful moments, these rare snippets of time with both my boys sleeping, will get fewer and fewer as the days go on. I treasure the few minutes I had, snuggled in between my boys while they slept.
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