No photograph tonight, just a bedtime vignette. Another moment of I-can't-believe-I'm-doing-this. As my friend Rebecca recently pointed out, she could make an entire banquet of the words I've already eaten since becoming a parent. I don't know why I'm still surprised to be surprised.
So you've heard about "comfort objects," right? No? Well, get with the program-- they are essential tools for helping small persons get to sleep at night, calm down during the tempests of tantrums, meet the new babysitter with confidence, etc.. They are known in the biz as "loveys." No longer just a word for when you are pretending to have a Cockney accent, a good lovey is small, cuddly and portable. Audrey's is a small foot-square blanket made of yellow fleece. She's become attached to it only after many months of handing it to her, trying to convince her that cuddling with it is a deeply soul satisfying experience. But when she finally fell for it, she fell hard-- the lovely is loved. It is an all consuming love, second only to her love for her stuffed dog and -- possibly-- me and Scott. And it's incredibly sweet to see her light up and coo when she sees the lovey, and snuggle with it at night. Except.
I just put her to bed a few minutes ago and handed her the lovey (she was barely awake) and she immediately rolled over and buried her face in it. How can I walk out of the room where my sleeping child has her mouth and nose possibly maybe a little bit obstructed by the stupid lovey?? So there I stood, trying ever so gently to take the lovey away from her without waking her up. She finally rolled away from it, which is why I am not still there now, holding my breath and trying to pull it out from under her one millimeter at a time.
I'm tagging this one "Careful what you wish for."
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