“Mommmmmeeeeeeeee!” I heard her wail from her nursery, the room next to ours.
I pulled my weary self out of bed and found my way through the dark to her door, guided by the soft light of morning creeping in through the miniblinds in our bedroom.
5:45am. Fun.
“What, sweetie?” I whispered gently.
“I wost my paci, Mommy,” she whimpered.
I felt around her crib with my palms, not able to locate the missing pacifier until I ran my fingers into the crack in her crib bumper where it had wedged itself so neatly.
“Here, honey.” I said as I put the rubber nipple back into her mouth.
“I want to sleep in your womb,” she mumbled, paci gripped ever so gingerly between her lips.
Ugh. There goes my last hour of sleep this morning.
I carried my baby girl into our bedroom and placed her in the middle of our king bed. I tried to fall back into my sleep, but it wasn’t happening. The snow that had fallen during the night was reflecting what little bit of sunlight that was emerging from the sky and our room was starting to welcome the morning. I spent the next fifteen minutes caressing her soft cheeks and hands, a sweet luxury I don’t always having during the day when she’s rushing about playing so busily.
I savored those minutes.
“I wan to go downstairs, Mommy,” she declared, after tiring of my affection.
And so I pulled on my fluffy yellow fleece bathrobe and picked her up so we could go downstairs and admire the last snow before spring while we ate breakfast.
