Somebody.

The other day I was in line paying for a gelato.  Parker was tucked into his stroller by my side.  My money was at the ready as my gelato was rung up.  The man working behind the counter was making faces at Parker, sticking his tongue out,  opening his eyes wide. Parker was smiling.  Tentatively, but smiling nonetheless.  He looked at me as if to say: Is this guy ok, Mom?  I smiled back at him: It's ok, Parker.  He continued looking happily at the man, and the man continued making faces at Parker.

Then, Parker's smile disappeared.  At first, his face registered, "Ok.  I'm over it."  But, he breezed right through that territory.  Then, the tears welled up in his eyes.  He frantically looked over to me as his mouth turned sad and a little cry began.  I got close to his face and said, "It's ok, sweetie!"  I said to the man that he's in that stage, paid for my gelato, and left.

It took him no time at all to calm down, but once outside the store, I gave him a little reassurance-snuggle anyway.  I'm sure I whispered some sort of soft I-love-you's in his ear, then began walking again, eating my gelato as we went on our merry way.

Though his tears were short-lived, I couldn't help thinking this moment was something more significant and one I wouldn't soon forget.  My luck, really.  My luck, my blessing, my call-it-what-you-will.  This little boy, still so new to this world, was scared.  An unfamiliar face shook him up a bit, and he ran the gamut of emotions from thinking it was quite fun to fear in about five seconds flat.  When he got scared, his eyes darted over to me.  To me!  His mama!  His eyes settled in mine, mine in his, and that's what calmed him down.  He knows me and I know him.  He needs me and I (really) need him too.

I am somebody to him.

I can't help bubbling over when I think about it.  It's a pretty sweet thing I've got going here.