The Right Height for a Hug

It was one of those mornings. 

While my husband, who is a teacher, usually takes our oldest daughter to school in the morning on his own way to work (a blessing, I know), once or twice a week he has meetings before school that entail him being a whole hour and half early to work.

Which means only one thing:

Me, getting all three children dressed and out the door to school on time. 

It may sound like a small thing to you, and so it may be, but to me, it’s not such an easy task.

There’s whining and burying under the bed covers and hair that never seems to cooperate–and that’s before I even wake the kids up.

I will freely admit that I am not a morning person. In fact, I loathe mornings. And there’s nothing more that I loathe than freezing cold mornings when I have to feed, dress, and load three children up, two of whom still require the full 5-point buckle carseats, and haul them all in through the parking lot to drop my daughter off. (My daughter’s school has parents walk their kids in, so no drive-by drop offs for this mama.)

So it was a morning like every other morning when I am on school/child duty. 

We were late, I was harried, and probably barking orders like a drill sergeant.

I couldn’t get my boots on for the life of me, so I gave up and plopped down on the floor to pull them on. (Did I mention that I’m four months pregnant?)


My son, who was standing in front of me looked around, confused, as if he wanted to say, “Does anyone else see this? Why is mom sitting on the floor?”

He giggled a little bit to himself at the sight of me plopped down amongst the mess of shoes and coats and winter outer garments, none of which will match, of course.

And then, it happened. 

He looked to the right. He looked to the right.

And then suddenly, as if realizing that this was the perfect opportunity–he toddled over to me and threw his arms around me in a giant little man hug.

He pulled back, laughing and smiling his adorable dimpled grin and then leaned back in for another hug.

As I held my boy in my arms, I felt a joy bubble up that was so sweet and unexpected, it would have knocked me off my feet had I not already been sitting my pregnant self on the ground. His little mischievous look and the sudden realization that, hey, mom is just the right height for a hug.

And all I needed all along was to come down to his level to realize it.

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