Dragging out an old piece today about my littlest boy. Because somehow, he’s almost seven.

Because somehow, there’s a place in the heart of a mama that beats just a little differently for her youngest.

Because somehow, today, my baby big boy pulled the heavy sled when he went ice fishing with the menfolk. And he did it all.by.himself.

That there is a big day for my little man.

My baby grew a few inches today.

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I’d had it!

I dismissed him from the table, tired, fed up, and just plain sick of all the fork banging, peanut butter in the hair, fingers splashing through the cup of milk. I just wanted to eat my broccolli in peace. It’d only been five minutes since we sat down….

He exhausts me.

“Want DOWNNN!” He screeches at me.

I correct him. “‘May I be excused’ is what we say.”

“Scoose?” His barely audible mumble passes my lower than ever standards.

Frustrated, beat down and just plain old tired of him, I forget my smile and tell him to go get in bed. “It’s naptime. Go on. I’ll be in in a minute.”

I breathe deep, try to relax. Try to remember he’s not yet three. Try to remember he’s a boy after all. Try to remember what everyone tells me…”He sure is busy.”

It’s quiet in there.

Broccoli done, table cleared of stickiness, I head that way, anticipating some new and time-consuming mess, wondering if the ten minutes of quiet was worth what was waiting for me.

Not expecting him to have crawled up into his crib, I check his favorite place, the girls’ room. Empty.

His next favorite snuggle spot, big brother’s bed, remains neatly made.

Where is he?

I wander to the next room.

A little voice….”Mama?”…

I walk through the doorway to my room and turn to leave, seeing it’s dark and empty.

Until I spot just the tiniest little mound…

“Levi?”

His curly head looks over the edge of the comforter. In the middle of the queen bed, he’s lost in a sea of pillow and Softie; he’s dragged his favorite brown blanket along.

My heart melts at his smallness.

I’m amazed at how this bustly, rough and tough, never-quite-seems-to-listen-to-me and never-quite-seems-to-sit-still kid, in all his sweetness, tried his best to obey and go to bed just like Mama told him.

Even though it wasn’t his bed.

It was bed.

“You’re a good boy Levi.” I kiss his curls and soak up his big brown eyes.

He whispers to me in his sleepy little voice…

“Mama’s bed”.