I have to tell you a story about when I walked in tonight to cuddle with my 3 girls. When I looked over at Harper's bed I noticed a little light shining right in the center of her covers. As I walked over to cuddle with her, I noticed she was hunched over a book, with a battery powered night light, trying to steal a few last moments of 'reading' to herself. She looked so young and so innocent- but also totally like a little old lady.
And I thought to myself, as I often do, I am in serious trouble. How? (HOW?) Can you take a night light away from a tiny little pixie child? Her untamable mane of hair. Her little cherubic face. So matter-of-factly holding the light to her book. Reading peacefully to herself in the dark. Eager, determined, and content in the dark.
But, I did take the night light away. Because that is my job as the mean old, no fun mama that I am. That is all of our jobs as mamas. To take away magical middle of the night night lights from our dreamy-eyed babies- when they steal away to read one last story to themselves in the dark. 'Bedtime," I said to her, as I pried the nightlight from her little fingers. "Bedtime," I said, as I folded closed the pages of the book and kissed her little fuzzy forehead. And, she rolled over, and rolled her eyes, too, and nestled her tiny body into her big, warm, bed.