Practicing Joy

He was playing, so I thought I'd practice my piano accompaniment for the Thanksgiving family talent show. I should have realized that once the first note was played, he would scramble onto my lap. For a millisecond, I wanted to shoo him away so I could focus on my much-needed practice. But this kid has always been on the run, even before he could run, and consequently, has never spent enough time on my lap. So instead of shooing, I savored.

I smiled as I looked at his pudgy hands with endearing indentations where knobby knuckles will one day be. When I kissed the top of his head, I could smell his soft hair.

After each phrase he played, he leaned his head back and to the side to make eye contact with me, his smile and eyes seeming to ask, "Was that pretty, Mommy?"

I smiled and said yes. "So pretty." As this ritual continued, we began to giggle.

I thought about how one day he'll be too big to sit on my lap.

And before long, we were both laughing with the music.