me too
January 13, 2014 § 16 Comments
Nose to nose, sandwiched between stuffed animals and partially read books, I curled into my daughter’s company as she fought her racing thoughts to follow her dreams toward sleep. Side by side she whispered into the dark: I want to fall asleep by myself so that you will think I am big and feel proud of me, but secretly I wish I could stay small so that you wouldn’t have to leave.
And so I stayed until sleep stole her company, proud of the uninhibited honesty that accompanies these stolen moments and thinking all the while:
Me too.
scribblechic 
I like that you change up fonts. Somehow between the transitions, I am transported and immersed into the different elements of your experience.
It’s really cool that you do that.
Cheers.
Thank you. I wish I could claim greater creative license, but I simply used italics to frame my daughter’s voice.
A thought similar to one we share as parents.
An ocean of love between conflicting wishes.
Perfectly put.
Thanks, Andy.
Wonderful imagery. Our youngest son’s bedroom probably looks very similar. Just add crayons and used paper.
The Mrs. is the preferred contact for sleep assistance here–I am called when someone needs a fun tackle or something heavy carried up the stairs.
Similar rooms and personalities for certain. My husband is the champion of giggles and mischief; our daughter an eager student of his craft. In our home silliness and creativity are as essential as rest.
Breaks my heart! My 9-year-old still wants to snuggle but he will soon be at age where he doesn’t want to. I already miss that sweet little boy smell:)
One day we hold our children in our arms and the next we hold those memories closer, trying to remember the moment they outgrew the span of our embrace.
Beautiful – I can see the entire scene through your words 🙂
Thank you, Caitlin. These little moments bring me the greatest joy.
This melts my heart. What a lovely post.
Thank you, Aimee. It was a fleeting moment of magic that lingers still.
Ah, I’ve been having similar nights with my daughter. She’s always fought sleep, needing me with her to finally succumb to it, and I sometimes let my frustrations be known. I can feel her tug between wanting to be capable of doing it on her own and wanting to not be burdened with having to prove it. And it’s partially my fault, as I struggle with my own tug and pull of wanting to comfort her and wanting her to learn to comfort herself. This was a beautiful post.
Thank you, Lara. This stolen moment holds a special place in my heart.