It was a night just like any other. I got Brendan ready for bed. Fresh diaper. Clean PJ's. Hands and face washed. Teeth brushed. Stories read. Blankie thrown over my shoulder and binky in hand. We head upstairs.
We walk into Brendan's room and just as I'm about to lay him down, he puts his head on my shoulder. "Momma. Momma." In the softest tone of course. I wanted to fetch him ice cream just for being so sweet and amazing, but we have none.
It's the small stuff that gets me. My heart is stolen again and again by that little curly haired man upstairs.
That's okay. That's one thief I can most gladly forgive.