As I Snuggle With My Little One: Clinging to Childhood

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My 2-year-old insists that I spend a good chunk of his nap time lying next to him. Well, “insists” might be a stretch, but it’s been our routine from the start. If I don’t show up, his nap will be cut short, and we all know that cranky toddlers are no fun. So, when he stirs, I’m right there. I scroll through Instagram, maybe scribble down some thoughts (thank goodness for the Notes app on my phone), and occasionally catch a few Z’s.

After eight and a half years of parenting, I don’t really overthink my choices anymore, especially not like I did when my first child was a baby. My parenting style leans towards the attachment side of things. What I do or don’t do has become more of a routine than a topic for endless analysis. It mostly works, and honestly, I’m too worn out to question it.

This afternoon, it struck me that many parents don’t—or can’t—spend that much time lying down with their kids during naps. Some are busy working moms, while others have older siblings to manage. There are kids who find comfort in teddy bears, pacifiers, or cozy blankets, and some just don’t require as much sleep assistance as my little one. I totally get that every family finds their own groove.

Recently, it was Pajama Day at my older son’s school, where he was supposed to show up in PJs with a favorite stuffed animal. Like his younger brother, he never had a cuddly companion. He joked, “I guess I’d have to bring you, Mom!”

He no longer sleeps in our bed (yes, they do eventually grow up), but we still share some time before he falls asleep, with either his dad or me (usually me) staying until he drifts off.

My 2-year-old, however, still needs me a bit more. Nap time, nighttime, his small body curled up against mine. I realize that this level of closeness isn’t for everyone. I sometimes forget how odd it may seem to outsiders, simply because it’s become second nature for me after all this time.

Why do I do it? Well, part of it is sheer laziness; responding to my baby’s cries was just easier than figuring out other soothing methods. It’s also instinctual, and I’ve learned to tune out the critics and follow my gut.

But the deeper reason? I’m holding onto their childhoods by holding them. I know this won’t last forever. Independence comes rushing in, and the days with little ones fly by, whether I want them to or not. My 8-year-old barely shows interest in cuddling anymore. Before long, he’ll be heading straight to his room, shutting the door, and flopping into bed without a second glance back.

My 2-year-old, though, still welcomes my embrace. He wants me close, and he’s small enough to curl up against me. His damp hair on a warm May evening still smells like baby shampoo. I can’t bear to rush through this phase. It breaks my heart thinking it will come to an end. And I know it will, without a doubt.

So, even when I feel frustrated by interruptions during my “me” time; even when I sometimes wish I could sleep alone; I choose to go to him. I lie there in the dark, mostly just waiting, often zoning out on my phone, and absorbing every precious moment. I’m stealing tiny bits of time. I’m holding on.

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Summary

This blog post reflects on the intimate moments shared between a parent and their young child during nap time. It discusses the challenges and joys of attachment parenting, the fleeting nature of childhood, and the importance of embracing these moments despite the exhaustion that comes with parenting.