Only moments before, "Mommy, eyes. Mommy, nose. Mommy, mouf. Mommy, Gamma. Mommy, Jesus. Mommy, hold you. Mommy eyes" as she pokes and prods at my own face, I try by close-eyed example to convince her that a nap would really be a good thing. At the same time, behind my closed eyes, trying to stay awake long enough to retain the motivation I had to get a bunch of things checked off of my to-do list before we tried laying her down for a nap. And then, the moment. She is still, and silent, and the breaths come rhythmically. I know I can safely open my own eyes again because the sandman has stolen her away for what will turn out to be a few brief hours. And yet, I don't want to get up right away - snuggling here in this hard-earned moment is sweet. So, before I get up, there we lay, my arm around her, hers around my neck, sweetly stealing some minutes in today that are restful for both of us.
