Good night, sweet baby.

Good night, sweet baby, good night.

Another day has flown by, and once again, mommy's heart aches that I wasn't able to see you for more than a few hours. I count the minutes until the weekend. Minutes and hours until we can play, and nap, and laugh together, and mama can read you endless books, and make silly sounds,and we can giggle at the puppies and their snicky licks.

Bath night tonight. You are learning how to splash loudly, your little chubkin arms flailing about, hoping to make contact with the water, so that it gives you the loud splash effect. You also are curious about the soap bubbles that float on the top of the water. With intense concentration, you use your emerging pincer grasp to try and pick the bubbles up, only to look frustrated that they disappear as soon as you grab hold. You are getting better about letting us rinse your hair; no more scared baby sounds. Just a quick shriek as we rinse the head, then it's back to reading about cats and dogs canoeing down the river. Sometimes the book makes contact with your mouth. I clean the last of your crumbs off your cheek, the last off your little body - the body that made mama laugh tonight when you appeared to start to groove a little at the first strains of your baby Mozart. You made mama's heart leap with pride.

Toweled off and silly baby scoots her naked bum to the top of the crib. You snuggle your lovie on your face, cuddles feel good. You cry at night when you are tired; you want your PJ's on NOW, and you want your bottle NOW. No lotion for you; forget it, daddy. I don't care about dry skin and dry patches. I want to eat and sleep NOW. Sleep sack is zipped. You're picked up, and led to your rocker, lights out.

You furiously suck your bottle, as though you haven't eaten all day and we all know that isn't true- as I've read the report that says you had some bagel for breakfast (!) your whole jar of veggie and turkey dinner for lunch plus some lasagna, and a variety of fruits, bread, and puffs for dinner. The dark envelopes us, as I slowly rock the chair, enjoying the rhythm myself, watching Sassy Sage pace in and out of the room, listening to the white noise CD, dimly lit by one nightlight. I hear daddy washing bottles. The TV is muffled downstairs. I rest my cheek upon the top of your clean head, savoring the warmth and smell, and hear your snuffled nose, as it starts to slow down in breath. You stop your picking and exploring at my arm with your fingers.

Good night, sweet baby, good night. You are stretched so long in your PJ's and sleep sack: head on my shoulder, feet almost to my knee. Where is my tiny girl I gave birth to? The one who got stuck coming out? You are growing too fast, too soon, too quick for my liking. Not long ago you could barely sit up without comically toppling over with a laugh. Now, you are sitting up alone in your bath, giggling as we sit you up naked as a jay bird in your crib.

I feel your body start to go limp; you are entering the sleep stage and the suckling on the bottle stops. I savor the last few minutes before I must go and feed myself, for I am so hungry, but you come first. Tonight, again, you make a small, soft humming noise, humming in contentment as your sleep is good. Dream sweetly, my love. Hum away, and dance with the angels in your dreams. Hum. Hum. Hum. I love you. Good night.