My girl won’t take her morning nap. Her cries cleave my heart in two (as they always do). I open the door and pick her up and this is my favourite bittersweet moment of the day:
Her damp cheek against mine. The cool, tiny curl of her ear pressed up to my eyelid. Wisps of her hair tickling my nose. Body lifting and falling with dramatic sniffs. Hand holding tightly to the curve of my shoulder. She smells like herself and something else… peanut butter, from breakfast.
She’s upset and I’ve got a hundred and one things to do and yet… it’s nice.