You cried. You shouted. You kicked your little feet. You tossed off your blanket. You gathered up all your “guys” and came out of the room, telling me you weren’t taking a nap in a tiny little peep.
What do you think you’re doing? Get back in there right now and go to sleep. No longer, little one, will you try to creep.
Your brother is sleeping, somehow oblivious to your noise. You tried to sleep together to start this nap but couldn’t calm down and agree, my silly boys.
“I don’t want to sleep!” you said. “I’m not sleepy!” you said. But with your little lisp, it came out “I’m not thweepy!” instead.
After 30 more minutes, I knew you needed some rest. So I went to you with calm, trying my best.
I laid you back down, snuggled you up with your guys. Exhaustion was close, as the whole time you barely opened your eyes.
I put my hand on your chest. I held you firmly but not hard. Your body is tired, little one, your cries have played your last card.
Within minutes you yawned. A wide shudder ushering in sleep. I could sense your little body settling and your heartbeat slowing down deep.
Your eyes darted back and forth under the lids, and I knew the time had about come. I was willing you to sleep before the big kids’ time playing outside was done.
I set a 5-minute limit, my hand on your chest the whole time. I didn’t even make it to 3, and sleep left you peaceful and sublime.
You fought. You tested. I helped. We rested. A piece of my heart sleeping in angelic physical form on this earth.
