Little Man of Few Words

We had a thunderstorm last night, and Elijah couldn't sleep through it.  While Dan and I were out in the big room facebooking and talking, the wind started blowing cool air through the windows, and the rain pelted the gutters, the lightening flashed, CRACKED across the sky, and that was it for the Little Man.

You'd think it might be a chore to have to put a little one back to sleep, especially since the thunder stuck around for a while, but it was one of the sweetest times I've had with him in a while.  Elijah doesn't talk much yet.  He has several words, and many that he spontaneously uses but won't repeat.  But, most of the time when he really wants to say something, he slurps.  He'll point to the object he wants and make a sort of "ssshhsslllsss" sound, and look at you meaningfully, as though he just said something that any idiot would understand.  It can be frustrating to an 18month old when no one knows what he just said, and so we have our dramatic moments in which he throws himself bodily to the ground and protests loudly at our incompetence.

But last night, when I went in, he was just sweet.  He cried out, and when I got to the bed, he pointed to the window and slurped.  I laid down with him and tried to soothe him, but each crack of thunder and flash of lightening would pop his eyes open again.  So, we got up and went to the open window and peered out through the screen at the downpour in progress.  I talked about the rain and he pointed and slurped.  When we saw the sky lighten and go dark again, he held up his hands as if to ask where it went.  I told him the thunder was coming and to get ready for the boom boom boom, and he smiled when it rumbled in.  I stood swaying in the dark, holding him, and we watched the storm for quite a while, until he laid his head on my shoulder and drifted back to sleep, calm and secure, unworried.

When I laid him back down, I stayed with him for a while, watching him sleep and remembering.  I remembered the night he came into this world, remembered laboring in this same room.  I remembered holding him and nursing him for endless hours.  I remembered when all of our focus was on Fiona, because we only had one, and how that's divided with two, but seems multiplied at the same time.  And I thought about how short this time is where he doesn't have the words to say things to me and we pay such close attention to each other to be able to communicate.

So, I paid very close attention for a little while longer.