Every night I come upstairs and check on the girls. Sometimes, I go into Big Girl’s room first. Sometimes, I stop in Little Girl’s room first. Big Girl usually needs to be untangled from her bedding. I smooth her hair and give her a kiss. Little Girl usually needs to be covered up. Sometimes, I have to put her back into bed since she’s fallen off. I always have to remove a few stuffed animals to give her room.
Last night I went into Little Girl’s room first. I opened the door. The bed was empty. I turned the light on, looking around in the closet, under the bed, behind the chair. I couldn’t help myself. I screamed, “Where is the baby?!?” My husband, woozy from falling asleep on the couch, was like, “What? In her bed.” I started racing around the house screaming her name. And then I stopped, running into Big Girl’s room to check on her. That’s where I found the little one, the little beast. Snuggled up with her sister.
Heart pounding, mouth dry, blood pressure in full-on skyrocket mode, I shook her awake and told her to go back into her own room. I didn’t even bother to ask why. Why, out of the blue, she would decide to go sleep with her sister. Something she’s never done before.
Once Little Girl was tucked back into her bed, I got into my bed, adrenaline pumping, body shaking, heart pounding, and complained bitterly to my husband. “She wants to drive me insane! I am going to be completely gray soon,” I cried. My husband, who has the gift of “who cares” built into his DNA, told me I was being crazy and to go to sleep.
I did fall asleep really quickly. For once, I had a dreamless sleep. I’m thinking I’d better get a lot of that now because once the little one is big enough, she is going to give me a lot of sleepless nights.