Charlotte woke me up in the night, blanket in one hand, cup in the other. Slightly sobbing, she handed me the empty cup and asked me to fill it. She dropped her blanket, and when I picked it up, I noticed it wasn’t her blanket at all, but a silky nightgown.
She took it, held it up with a look of confusion, and stared not her striped blanket but Dora in the face. Enough to have nightmares, for sure. ‘”Hello, sleepy girl, losing her cool due to lack of proper hydration. I’m Dora. Lovely olive complexion, perfect hair (Despite having been crumpled for the past six hours, thank you for that.) and the ability to have my backpack, my map, and my monkey all talk and obey me. Oh, and I consistently beat the fox with sticky fingers, every time.”
I’m raising daughters of self confidence, apparently. She doesn’t struggle with the comparisons we women so often put ourselves though, looking everywhere to see how we’re failing compared to the next woman/mom/wife. She looked confused for but a moment, took her refilled water, and went back to bed, snuggling her sister’s nightgown.
I, on the other hand, had a series of funny-to-me thoughts as I lay there, unable to go back to sleep. You get to witness secondhand what sleep-deprived does to me.
Oh, and I got up and cancelled an Amazon order at 4am when I realized I’d forgotten to add something to it. Yep, on my toes last night, for sure.
