Jacko's voice streams out of the speakers, smooth as liquid caramel, I feel your body melt into mine, my breath lifting the silken curls at the nape of your neck. I breathe in the scent of your tissue soft skin, stroke my hand down the length of your back as you rest your head on my shoulder, fitting perfectly into the crook of my neck. Your arms reach up to curl around me, your legs curve around my hip. We sway to the music and I just can't stop loving you.
I am dancing the best slow dance of my life and it's at 9:30am and my partner is my 13-month old baby.
As I shuffle around clinging onto his tiny body, he nestles his warm pyjama clad body into my nightie as neither of us has managed to get dressed yet, and the love I feel consumes me. Tears form in my eyes at the strength of my emotion, I want to pour the adoration I feel into my baby boy by some mystical process of maternal osmosis. I want him to feel how much I love him like a warm cocoon enveloping him.
He is so beautiful to me with his magical blue eyes that flash from sapphire to indigo, fringed by impossibly long black lashes, which curl down to touch the curve of his pink and ivory cheeks. He has a coquettish charm that will get him everywhere; splaying tiny fingers over his face to play peekaboo and clapping wildly to show his joy with the world.
His hair is a crazy spun gold mess of corkscrew curls, and when I blow gently on his face they shift into flyaway patterns making him blink and giggle. His laugh is infectious, a crackly, hoarse sound so close to crying sometimes I need to check his smile to make sure tears aren't on the way. He melts me with his habit of shuffling around on his belly following me from room to room like a devoted puppy, his face collapsing in a mess of tears if I don't scoop him into my arms instantly.
I am a writer, and I can't help but want to encapsulate just what it is that makes my boy so special in words, but as I write I realise how impossible my task is. As so many romantics have written before, the words 'I love you' are a meaningless and mean way of trying to explain the feelings they are designed to convey. I feel the same way. I could write forever about every little thing he does that makes my heart expand with love, that makes me laugh out loud, that makes me want to hold him tight to me and never let him go, but I could never capture the sum of all those myriad moments when you feel as if you might burst because you are so in love.
Fortunately, I know that any other mother who reads this knows just what I mean.