I am of late relishing when I’m allowed to cuddle my guy.  He *just barely* still fits in my lap, legs draped around me and hanging off the side of the recliner in his room; but when he wants to snuggle to sleep he can melt into a surprisingly compact form.

His head fits differently on my shoulder, in the hollow above my breast.  He smells different now, of little boy and frequently of peanut butter.  But his hair is still so soft, and his cheek (the only thing that speaks to his remaining babyhood) invites kisses that won’t get wiped away.

He isn’t my first love, that’s saved for his Daddy.  But he will always be my sweetheart and my Valentine – for no one will ever know him for as long as I have, or loved him for as long.  He knows what my heart sounds like from the inside, every beat saying his name – before I even knew what it was.  He shows me every day what Love is.

Happy Valentine’s Day, buddy.  Mama loves you.