You never know what’s going to get you as a parent. What’s going to hit you right in the feels. There are the things you expect – their first birthday, when they can say “I love you,” first day of daycare or school, etc. These things you expect and can sort of prepare for, but those random things? Those weird things that just happen and all of a sudden you are tearing up at a stop light on a Friday morning on the routine drive to daycare? You can’t prepare your heart for those things.

This past week, my baby boy started singing along to the song I’ve been singing to him since he was born. And let me tell you, apparently that’s one of those things.

I heard his quiet little voice pipe up from his car seat behind me, “blues…dreams….sweet baby James”. I looked in the rear-view mirror and saw his little face was lit up with half a grin, like he understood this song was for him. Granted, it has his name in it, so it’s sort of a giveaway, but still. It was a shy little smile, like, “oh, mama’s been singing this song about me, to me.” He’s two, so I know the thoughts in his little brain aren’t that complex, but I still think he got it.

We made eye contact in the mirror and his smile widened as he said, “mo’! Mo’ sweet baby James?”

Of course, my boy. Always. Always more.

Maybe it was because there was this song playing on the CD that I’d been softly singing to him since that first night in the hospital, when he fit in Mama’s arms and instinctively knew they were his safe place. And now, he’s a toddler the size of a five year old, who tries his best to fit in Mama’s arms and has learned that they are still his safe place to run. Where there is always more room, more snuggles, more love. Always more.

Or perhaps, it was because it was so quiet with only him in the car because his older sisters were off on a “starting kindergarten and second grade” adventure with Daddy; making me realize this would be the commute the next couple of years. Just him and me on the way to daycare because my other two babies had outgrown yet another stage of childhood. My baby of babies, the last for my mama heart to plead for more memories, more snuggles, more time. Always more.

Probably, it was becuase I pictured, right there in the van, him and I dancing to Sweet Baby James at his wedding. Him towering over me in his man body, whispering in my ear as we slowly twirl, “More? More sweet baby James, mama?.”

I’ll look up into those dark brown eyes I’ve been drinking in for years and years and say, “Of course, my boy. Always. Always more, my sweet sweet baby James.”

Always and forever, more.