This morning I awoke with my dear four-year-old spooning me. Her tiny arm was draped across my back in the most natural way. We've slept together more closely than Dave and I ever have, and I've thought many times that she and I fit together as perfectly as when I carried her. She turned over and snuggled her back into mine and said "I'm so tired." Gratefully I agreed and went back to sleep. She sat bolt upright a little while later and said, "I'll see you downstairs in a little while, mommy." Heaven punctuated by a quick kiss to my forehead (or, horefead as it is still often called). "Oops, I almost forgot." She scooted back towards me and gave me a long hug. As she made her way out of the room I couldn't help but think she was a gift. I always regret loosing my temper, choosing poor language, or overreacting, but when a little one is so darn sweet it makes you wonder if you don't deerve such love or if you've done something right.
B shows her love and affection differently. She desires the same cuddling and hugs N gets, but it is not her way. She spent most of the afternoon yesterday following me about the house offering to help. She's mature and willing it is easy to take her for granted. N rarely offers, usually following B's lead, but she doesn't enjoy it. Bailey truly wants to be helpful. It is such great company.
The two couldn't be more different more more loving in their own ways. This difference has made it very apparent to me that little of them is due to me-they're their own little women and they are a gift from God.
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