Christmas Eve.

Nic asked me to wake him up this morning, so before I left for work I did just that and was rewarded with a tired hug.

For a moment – a fleeting moment – as I looked at his sleepy face and disheveled hair, I saw my boy.

It’s so odd.

So different.

Gone are the Christmas Eves peppered with ‘Can I open just one??’

Gone are the cookies and milk for Santa.

No more waiting for him to be asleep before tip toeing to his stocking.

No more biting carrots for reindeer and leaving remnants on the porch.

No more sprinkling glitter by a fireplace – leaving footprints in the carpet.

I miss that.

I miss wrapping Lego and Pokemon.

I miss small pajamas.

I miss the smell of his freshly washed hair – of “1,2, threeeee!” As I picked him up, wrapped in an impossibly big towel, out of the tub.

I miss story time and his heavy lids – minty yawns and ‘See you in the morning!’

Today I miss my boy.

But am oh so grateful for the young man who is my son this Christmas Eve.