About six years ago, C would call out to me from his room every night around 2 am. I would get up, straggle into his room and try to put him back to sleep. He would cradle my face in his arms and eventually fall asleep.
One night although C called for me, the husband decided to give me a break and went in instead. C reached for the face again, felt the day-old stubble, promptly pulled his arms back and called for me again. Louder and close to tears this time.
We recounted this episode to a friend who let out a loud guffaw and said, "It's a good thing he didn't say 'Mom, you need a shave!'"
Memory brought on by this post.