They stayed up really late on Saturday, are going to school a few extra days this week, and are accompanying us to VBS each night until after 9. They've both been so tired at the end of the day that silly things have them completely undone. Monday night, Little Sister got frustrated with a little wooden barn puzzle (the third or fourth toy she had in the car, having thrown the previous few) and somehow busted her lip with it while using her low, growly voice to yell, "THE CHICKEN DOESN'T WORK!"
Big Sister couldn't buckle her booster seat last night and cried like we ran over a unicorn. "It doesn't work!!!" she wailed. Until I asked, matter-of-factly, "what doesn't? The chicken?!" and we all dissolved in laughter for a few minutes, a nice and all-too-rare moment in a draining week.
I'm tired. My husband is tired. My girls are... beyond tired. At 11 o'clock this morning I brought a snack into the playroom where the girls were laying and watching a movie, and I saw Little Sister's eyes fluttering open. If I had been a little slower to cut the darned apples, she might have been asleep, and I could have avoided the naptime drama.
Instead, she stayed awake for another hour, angry at every toy and frustrated with everything Big Sis or I did. When I finally declared it was time to nap, I had to wrestle her into a diaper. She didn't want to be held or rocked, so I left her raging in her bed, until the angry screams turned to cries for Mommy. Then I went back and scooped her up. There is nothing like that little blonde curly head on my shoulder.
Even that was short lived, and she arched herself WAY back to start another tired tantrum. I found myself holding her body with one hand and extending my other arm to support her head, my body still bobbing and swaying to the lullaby music on the cd player. She stopped crying and laid there, silent except for that ragged breathing that comes from a good, hard cry. Her wet eyelashes fluttered, and I thought I might actually get the pleasure of helping my sweet little one fall asleep again- it has been ages since I held or rocked her as she drifted off. It reminded me of soothing her as a tiny baby, finding whatever strange position both supported and comforted her and praying I could keep it up. She's a lot bigger now so I gently pressed my elbows into her chubby toddler legs for extra support.
That's when she sat up and said, "No. Stop squeezing me."
But she was calm, and put her head back on my shoulder. She snuggled in, and I savored the moment knowing she would want down soon- to climb into her bed herself. And put the covers on herself. I can't even tuck in Little Miss Independent anymore.
Before I put her down, she raised up her head one more time. She was looking at her pillow, where earlier she had laid a doll and covered her with a tiny blanket. "There's a baby in my bed!" she said.
As I placed it in the doll crib and watched Little Sister climbing up into her big girl bunk, I thought to myself, "Nope. Not anymore."
Rest well, sweet girl. The week isn't over yet.
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