Saturday Morning

I am roused from a deep sleep because someone is kicking my foot.  It is Saturday.  It is early. Why is hubby kicking my feet?

 Image: Louisa Stokes / FreeDigitalPhotos.net

I roll over to look at him as he is rolling over to look at me.

“Why are you kicking my feet?” I ask, somewhat annoyed.

“I’m not kicking you.” he says, “You are kicking me!”

We both look down at our feet and there, at the foot of the bed, is our three and a half year old, grinning sleepily and back lit by a sun just beginning to peak through the window.

So started one of the most beautiful Saturday mornings I’ve ever had.

We invited out son into the bed and snuggled sleepily for a while.  Then the little one woke up and I brought him over to our bed too (sleep sac and all).  So there we were: two adults, a three and a half year old and a seven and a half month old all packed into a double bed.  There were arms and legs and elbows and knees everywhere.  We were a cuddled up and snuggled up, all wiggles and giggles and love. 

Sometimes the simplest moments are the best.