
When my kids were babies, still small enough that they had a soft spot, I would go to their cribs at night and put my hand on their heads, feeling for their heart beats. Not wanting to wake them, but to reassure myself they were okay.
Today, both of them are in their 20s, and I can no longer touch their life force with my fingertips gently held to their bodies. Sometimes though, late at night, I stand in their rooms watching them sleep, just to see them breathing, still scared the Baby Police will take them away from me.

*This entry started as a post on Facebook when I realized I could use it for Lance’s 100Word Song this week. I’ve missed hanging out with robot Leeroy, so I’ll be over there today.
My son is almost 8 and I still do it too. I put my hand gently on his back to just make sure…
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