Every night, we tuck the girls into bed. And every night, they go through the same routine.
Anna wants to read evvvvvvery book in her room.We usually settle on 3 or 4. But it's never enough. The girl loves her books. So when we finally say "Ok Anna, it's time for night night!" she loses it. LOSES it. Cries so hard.
But then, we turn on her noise machine and start singing "Twinkle Twinkle" to her, and she drops the act. She lays her head on my shoulder and twirls her hair. I sing it three times so I can have that head on my shoulder just a little longer.
With Emerson, after bargaining and pleading and making excuses, we finally get her in bed and I blow her kisses. We've made a game out of it. I ask her every night how many kisses she wants, and she counts to 29. For some reason, she has landed on 29 as the ideal number of kisses. So, in rapid succession, I kiss my hand 29 times, take a huge breath in, and blow 29 air kisses to my sweet girl. Sometimes she asks for one more for good luck.
Very small, insignificant moments to anyone else, but as their mother who knows I won't get to read to them or blow them kisses every night before bed forever, I live for these moments.
I am the first to admit that I'm tired at the end of the night, and that it's nice to have them go to bed so I can get things done, clean, work out, etc. But I wouldn't trade that hair twirl or those 29 kisses for anything in the entire world.