No, I am not talking about the 7 minutes in heaven you would have played in middle school. Get your mind out of the gutter. And, for the record, no, I never played that game. Oh stop, I know you were wondering.

A rare thing happened the other night. Rylee asked me to put her to bed.

She grabbed my hand and groggily lead me into her dark bedroom, dragging her blanket behind.

As I settled in on the floor next to her bed, I saw her sit up and point across the dark room. Without a word uttered, I instantly knew what she meant. I silently stood up, scooped my baby up off her bed and we made our way across her bedroom.

I was impressed my legs were able to navigate so easily to her desired destination. It seemed like it had been ages since I had done that. Nevertheless, there we were.

I sat. Rylee on my lap, facing me. She spread her blanket across the upper part of my body.

Silky side out, of course.

Once her blanket was arranged to her liking came the task of settling herself. It didn’t take long. She remembered, just like I did.

Her legs curled up under her.

Her arms fell to our sides.

Her head nestled down on my chest.

My arms wrapped around her. My head cocked to the side. My cheek resting on her head.

And we rocked.

For a mama whose baby fever has overcome her like the plague, this was pure bliss. And I soaked up every blissful minute with all I had.

I was in heaven.