Wishing

I am not a romantic.  Not a poet.  A believer but not in wishes.  But this morning when I laid in bed next to my sweet little six year old son and felt his warm forehead I made a wish.  He woke up with a nasty little stomach bug.  Nothing serious but he had been vomiting off and on all morning.  On my other side lay my sweet little three year old suffering the same ill fate as her older brother.  Her arm rested on my shoulder.  But I focused on him.  At six he doesn't often want my over bearing affection.  He doesn't ask for snuggling anymore.  He is content to sit independent and focus on his own activities.   But today for just a brief moment he snuggled up with me and I made a wish.  I wished that I could take his sickness from him.  A mother never wants their child to feel bad.  I knew it was not a wish that would come true but I wished it anyways.  We drifted off to sleep and napped.  The three of us together.

A couple hours later during dinner he glanced over at me and said he was feeling so much better and that the snuggles took his puke away.

My wish came true, just not in the way I had envisioned it.