As I tuck my daughter in at night, she often plays with a strand of her hair and asks, “Can I share something?” It’s a classic delay tactic that every child seems to master. They may not know how to ride a bike yet or think ketchup is a fancy condiment, but they’re experts at buying time with their parents.
I nod and listen to her recount the little moments of her day, watching her animated expressions. I try to recall the days when her face could only show desperate cries or gummy, sleepy smiles that reassured me I wasn’t completely failing at this parenting thing. When she finally pauses, I tell her how much I love her and, with a cheerful “goodnight,” I sneak away down the hall to indulge in some much-needed adult time.
On some evenings, when nostalgia hits me, I quietly return to her room hours later, like a denim-clad ghost, and speak softly to her in the moonlight. When she’s asleep, it’s the only moment of the day when her little body is peaceful. No more flailing limbs, loud questions, or last-minute demands for snacks.
In her slumber, I can softly trace the contours of her face, brush aside the sweaty strands of hair that have settled on her forehead, and gently stroke the bridge of her nose as if I’m about to make three wishes on a genie’s lamp.
When she sleeps, the air in her room is thick and warm, almost damp, because her nose seems to create a mini rain forest every night. The night light casts a soft glow, and through the slightly ajar window, the world outside exhales a sigh of relief after a long day.
This is my special time to share my thoughts with her.
I tell her about my favorite moment of the day. Every morning, as we drive down familiar streets, her cheerful, off-key renditions of made-up songs fill the car, and those quirky notes escape through the cracked window, becoming part of the city’s soundtrack.
I tell her that seeing my own reflection in her face surprises me every time, like a sudden taste of something familiar yet unexpected. Sometimes, amidst the chaos of parenting, I forget that long ago, I reached down and gently touched her head for the first time, feeling a rush of emotions as she was placed on my chest.
I promise her I’ll strive to be better tomorrow. I’ll listen more closely. I’ll practice patience. I’ll remember her boundaries and rein in my often lofty expectations.
I tell her I love her—oh, how I love her! It’s a love that feels overwhelmingly fierce and powerful, beyond what words can convey.
Some nights, as I rise from her side, I notice her stir. Legs kick and eyelids flutter. An arm stretches over her stuffed animals, and her fingers open like petals. For just a moment, I wonder if she can sense my whispered confessions, as if they wrap around her like a warm hug. I quietly close the door behind me, leaving her to dream sweetly, eager for her to share all her adventures in the morning.
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Summary: In a heartfelt reflection, a mother shares her quiet moments with her sleeping daughter, revealing her love and commitment to being a better parent. Each night, she expresses her thoughts and feelings, hoping to connect with her daughter in a meaningful way even while she sleeps.