The night was progressing as usual: sleep for a couple of hours, awake to crying baby, tend to crying baby, back to sleep. Around 4am, deeply asleep, we eventually realized the baby was crying. J went in to the kids’ room to work his magic. I was barely conscious but could swear I was hearing something that sounded like ‘twinkle twinkle little star.’ J came back in the room. ‘Do I hear singing?’ I managed to croak. ‘Yep, your oldest son is lying face down on his bed, singing ‘twinkle twinkle’ to the baby in his sleep.’
The next day, G plays the nap-avoiding game. Some days he falls asleep instantly and other days he comes up with the strangest excuses to get out of that room. He emerges with a request: ‘can you button my pah-jaw-mus?’ I comply and before I can say ‘back to your room’ he darts into ours where H is squawking – also deferring sleep. Amused, and slightly worried, I linger behind the doorframe, to see what was going to happen next. As I peek around the corner…G climbs on the bed and says to his brother, ‘it’s okay…. I’m here.’ And he snuggles in right beside the baby and tucks them both in, as carefully as a mother hen.
Sweetness personified, those two.
[The same two kids whose necks I wanted to wring 24 hours earlier – who sent me to previously uncharted depths of frustration and anger, and caused me to seriously question my abilities as a mom…..]