Normally I Don't Care for Feet

For all but the very first part of my son's life, he has gone back and forth between two houses. Entirely convinced that my divorce from his father was the best thing for us all, I have never wallowed in missing him when he is not around. This is our life.

However . . .

I just dropped him off at his dad's and will now not see him until Christmas Day. I read a lot about children of divorce when I was going through the divorce (including one popular article promising that my son was going to be a drug addicted sexual deviant as a result of the divorce, destined to make it no further than high school and middle management at Whataburger). One of the prevailing themes was that kids generally adjusted, but that they always felt stress about forced schedules and being shuffled around on holiday days. Accordingly, my ex and I don't set a schedule for that day. We switch Christmas Eve/morning every year, but our son can decide when he is ready to come over to the other house that day. So far it has worked out brilliantly.

This year though, when I dropped him off at his dad's, it hurt my heart a little. I'm going to miss him these next couple of days. Because my husband was out of town, my son slept with me last night. At some point during the night, he reached out his foot to find me, and he threw his ankle over mine. This happened at some point very early in the morning, but I stayed awake until the alarm went off. No matter how he twisted and turned for the rest of the night, he made sure his foot was touching mine. Then he woke up and started jumping on the bed because he couldn't wait to get over to his dad's because there are so many presents there. That's okay. I got the foot.