Tonight, per a certain three-year old's request, I squished myself onto a (very sturdy) toddler bed. I laid there beside him stroking his hair while he curled into my body and whispered "I love you" and "Do kangaroos have arms?" His nightlight behind me, I made shadows on the wall. He didn't mind that I can only do a duck and a spider. Then he tucked his head into the crook of my arm and stayed there until his breathing became slow and steady and his body grew heavy with precious rest. He didn't see the bittersweet tears streaming down my cheeks. I'm so thankful that despite all the times I've failed him, I must have done something right to deserve this sweet boy's love.