“Oh, you’ll like this song, momma,” she whispers. We’re listening to a Classic Disney CD in her bed. “It’s called ‘A Whole New World,”

“Oh yeah, that’s one of my favorites.”

She chortles, “But you haven’t heard it!”

My poor third child. She’s never gotten to see Aladdin. Hannah and LC were already sick of it when she came along. So I tell her she and I need to sit down and watch it together. Abby smiles at me across the pillow, cups my face in her hands, and gives me a kiss.

“I love you ma-ma.”

Our faces are so close that we gaze at each other with crossed eyes.

Last week, I read this post by Robin at Pensieve. (Great blog. Check it out.) Her story reminded me that I haven’t done enough snuggling with my kids lately. I get busy or preoccupied, and I begin to believe that I don’t have time for cuddling. Reminded of my real priorities, I decide to put the kids back at the top of my list.

So tonight, while Charlie is out for his weekly date with Hannah, I serve the other two my “speciality” of beanie weenie and macky cheese.

And green beans. So step off, Food Police. Step off.

Later, after dinner and a little Hannah Montana, Abby and I squeeze into her twin bed.

She shares her stuffed bunny and bear with me, so I’ll have somebody to hold. I manage to wrap my arm around them and her. She strokes my arm, and I notice her tiny hands. I’m fascinated by them, along with her little arms and legs and tummy and teeth. All so little. None of my children will ever be this small again.

“I’m getting big now, momma, so I’m getting moles.” She points out a tiny freckle on her ankle.

I have no idea why she thinks moles arrive with age. Maybe cuz I have so many.

We listen to more music. Beauty and the Beast, Lion King, Little Mermaid. I close my eyes so that she’ll stop talking to me. My nose is actually on her hair, so I inhale her scent, a mixture of sweat and Kraft cheese sauce.

No, I didn’t get around to giving her a bath tonight. Hey. It makes us earthy. I do blog about dirt, after all.

After a few minutes, my shoulders droop. My breathing slows. Abby and I melt into each other. When Charlie comes in with Hannah, he places his hand gently on my arm. I don’t think I was asleep, but I’m not really sure.

I do know that my heart is soft, like the wax on a freshly-blown-out candle. I pray it remains that way.