It is midnight and the whole house is asleep. I have everything ready for tomorrow and I'm finally getting to bed. I tiptoe up the stairs so as not to wake the girls and quietly brush my teeth and climb into bed, mindful of the squeaks. I straighten out the blankets, check the alarm clock and settle back into my new memory foam pillow. I listen one last time for any stray footsteps in the hall, then finally exhale in the dark and roll onto my side, settling in for sleep.
Twelve seconds later Rachel's door opens and she silently pads to my side of the bed. I smell the lavender scent of her post-bath lotion and see that she's sucking her thumb with the same hand that clutches her blankey. She tries to climb up into my bed but her foot slips and so she holds her hand out to me for help. Our faces are only inches apart in the dark and I can see those huge dark eyes staring at me.
Get up, the responsible-mother-voice in my head nudges me. Get up and put her back in her own bed. You were just complaining to the entire blogosphere about kids in your bed, do what you need to do.
But I'm so comfortable right now, I whine back (yes, at myself). So comfortable and so warm! And look at that face, so sweet. Can you smell that lotion? Besides, she is so snuggly!
Rachel bats her eyelashes one more time and my hand reaches out to hers. Behind her blankey I see that familiar smile and I drown out the responsible-mother-voice as I breathe in the scent of her hair. Because in the end, around here at least, snuggly wins pretty much every time.
