Treasured

Brown-Eyed Boy is getting ready for bed. With some assistance he changes from his day clothes into his p.j.s and then Dear Man suggests that he scoot downstairs to say goodnight to Mommy.

Rarely does this bedtime routine include a hug. Almost never does it involve a kiss.

But this night Brown-Eyed Boy surprises me, gently placing a kiss on my forehead, then turning away with a giggle.

Treasured. That's how I feel. Like I've been given a precious gem to enjoy.

::

Dear Man has come downstairs as well, to keep the bedtime procedure moving, and now he picks up Brown-Eyed Boy in an awkward carry, to head up the stairs.

On the way they pass the windowsill where there rests a box of cotton-tipped swabs, waiting for someone to return them to their proper home. And as they pass, Brown-Eyed boy leans out from Dear Man's arms and tries to kiss the long rectangular box.

Suddenly I don't feel like such a treasure.

But I'm smiling all over. And that is a treasure in itself.