Sometimes I just love little reminders that this child is, indeed, half mine: 

This week has been a bit crazy. We've been out of the house every day, nap times have been severly delayed, our regular routine off. It's been fun, of course, but both myself and the little guy have felt the effects of it. He's been acting out. I've been cracking down. We've both thrown a couple fits. It's nothing major, of course, but sometimes I almost think that can be harder. 

All this to say that upon waking this morning I was already tired. I just wanted to lounge in my bed. I waited for the sounds of my son waking up and, sure enough, began hearing him. But instead of the patter of his little feet coming to get me, he stayed in bed. For almost an hour that sweet child hung out in the dark- playing with his flashlight, imagining stories. He hung out in his bed, I hung out in mine. When he finally got up I came over to play with him and he says, "Alone time please!" So now it is almost 11am. He's regrouped. I've regrouped. We've both had some much needed "me" time. It is striking to me that we both hit our limits at the same time. We received refreshing in the same way. And now, as he gives me side looks and begins creeping closer towards me, I get a smile that looks remarkably like my own and see an expression that is exactly like the one on my face. He is my son after all.