Sweet Dreams

Braden, until recently, has been a boy of few words. So when he speaks, it holds great meaning, particularly for me. Over the last several weeks, he's started using 3+ word sentences. He's proud; Mommy and Daddy are proud; it's a genuine feeling of accomplishment. You know you're a parent when you're reading The Very Hungry Caterpillar for the millionth time and your child, in the sweetest, little voice possible, says "Swiss Cheese" and it melts your heart. Who knew that Swiss Cheese could now hold loving connotations? I'm not a fan in its traditional form.

Last night, Braden and I were reading his usual array of bedtime stories atop his Big Boy Bed: Danny Duck Takes a Dive, Polar Bear Polar Bear, Corduroy and Harry the Dirty Dog. I kissed him goodnight, gave him a big squeeze, and per our routine, wished him "sweet dreams". Catching me totally off guard, as I turned off the light and went to close Braden's bedroom door I heard him say, "sweet dreams" in response, for the first time. What a little love and I did, indeed, have sweet dreams.