It's late, Jude's asleep, and I was sitting downstairs watching some DVR'ed episodes of "Rescue Me" (good show). I thought I heard John Patrick crying, so I walked upstairs and peeked in on him. He was standing in his crib, whimpering, looking a bit disoriented. I'm guessing he had a bad dream.
I lifted him out of his crib, sat down in the glider and as he lay his head on my shoulder, I rocked him back to sleep, singing quietly to him. We stayed that way for a few minutes, then I carefully laid him back down in his crib while he slept.
Those few minutes, alone with my son, are what it's all about.
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