Eve got out of bed three times last night. She went into Ben's room and together they tiptoed, giggled, and hid from me. They had a little bench pulled up to the window and they were looking for daddy who was working late.
I might normally have gotten upset, but honestly I was too tired to get upset. I gently put Ben back to bed (again), and led Eve to her bedroom. A stroke of inspiration led me to point out the frost on her window and remind her that Jack Frost was coming. I tucked her into bed, snuggled her in tightly, and told her to be very still. I tickled her face and blew on her nose, and clapped. I asked her what she wanted to dream about because sometimes Jack Frost brings beautiful, magical dreams. She was really thinking as I suggested flying horses and rooms full of candy.
She said confidently, "I want to dream I'm a mother (mothew)." And then added with a smile, "A mothew bird with eight eggs." Sweet girl. Gentle promptings. When I went to shut her door she told me confidently that I could leave it open because she would NOT get out of bed again. And she didn't.
Sometimes being tired helps us to rely on those gentle promptings more. I would have missed that sweet moment if I had allowed self-pity to justify anger. I agree my little Eve, motherhood is the stuff the best dreams are made of.