Touching with his toes

I am embarassed to say that almost six years after Theo was born, and three and a half years after Benji was born, it is still rare that Jonathan and I get to spend one complete night together, uninterrupted and alone. Every night some small child comes wandering into the bedroom asking for water, help, love, a pacifier, or comforting from a nightmare. Sometimes I am up several times a night, sometimes--when I am using the sleeping chart--i get a rare night of complete sleep and get to wake up with Jonathan beside me. O Glory!
Benji is the cuddler of all cuddlers. Ever since he was a baby he wanted to be held. He would fall asleep in my arms, and then when I gently put him down he would wake up. Zulma devised a way to surround him with pillows so he would feel like there were bodies all around him, and sometimes that worked.
But even now, he inches across the bed, any bed, in search of a warm body to snuggle up against. It is like a primal homing device, very finely tuned in his case. Find warm, safe body--hide in there!
He is so wiggly, that when he comes to me in his sleep I cannot sleep. So now I turn away. And this is the sweetest. If he has to be separated, our heads or shoulders apart, his ear not on my heart, he needs to have the souls of his feet resting on me somewhere. And so I wake up now, with him stretched and taught, reaching his toes down so that he can touch my leg, or my belly, from wherever he is. And when I move, his toes follow me, trying to make contact again. And as soon as he does, he drifts back off, and his body relaxes. I wonder what it means...