The Littlest

Wow, Thomas has been sick, nothing melts my heart faster than a sick two year old. He started sleeping in our bed about a week ago and now I can't get him out. He has been able to bust out of his crib for a couple of months now. His ability to escape, having a place to go and a soft spot in Daddies defenses has made for some very uncomfortable nights.
There is a battle on the horizon. Getting the little fella to accept his place is not going to be a lot of fun. I am dreading it in fact. I heard a rumor that Santa is going to bring him a big boy's bed, maybe that will help. Wait a minute, that is a month away. A battle looms on the horizon, unless the illness persists we are going to have it out, I haven't lost yet and will be damned if the last one breaks me.
Thomas does have an advantage over the other two when it comes to taking advantage of Dad, he is the youngest. The time I spend with Thomas on my lap is the end of the line. There are no more toddlers or babies to follow. The children are all growing up fast and the bigger they get the worse they fit on my lap. Merry is too big to snuggle in, David is at the maximum size and my limbs fall asleep under the pressure. Thomas fits and snuggles in perfect, when we are situated in the big chair watching the fire, or the Football game, or even Sprout, I know it is fleeting. I want him to grow, really I do, but part of me wants him to be my baby forever. The child still thinks that I am a God, all knowing and all powerful, and when he calls to me I have to answer.
He will sleep in his own bed again soon. The minute the coughing, runny nose, and fever clear up he is out. Back in his own bed whether he likes it or not.