(Half-ass, you ask? Surely not. Yep, three entries in an entire year. That's dedication for you.)
- and marveled, a little wistfully, that we used to rock her to sleep almost every night. In the dark, in the rocking chair in her room. I actually remember when she was a year and a half and getting taller every second, rocking and humming and worrying that she was getting too big to hold facing me in my lap anymore, and what was I going to do when she was two years old and four feet tall.
She grew out of that...or maybe we did. She also hasn't grown to be four feet tall yet, if you were wondering.
No, a short time after we moved to the new house, but before Jr was born, her bed morphed from this:
to this:
And now the bedtime routine is completely different. She still gets the stories, she has learned to stay in bed (most of the time) after we leave the room, and she still sleeps with her blanket and nimmie (not pictured).
No, what's different now is what she has to say.
Every night - every single night - after the hugs and kisses, prayer, second request for a drink of water, and demands to change the colour of the ladybug that shines stars on the ceiling, just as we're shutting her door and walking softly down the hallway, she yells around her nimmie to us:
"Don't forget your wallet!".
It's enough to melt a parent's heart.
