...a sleeping beauty.

Tonight my big girl fell asleep on the couch before I could get her to bed.  I can count the number of times this has happened in her life on my fingers.  She was never the kid that fell asleep in her spaghetti or curled up in a nest of toys and blankets on the floor. I knew she was tired tonight.  She barely ate any supper and seemed very pleased to change into her pyjamas early and curl up under her blanket.   So I scooped her up off the couch and carried her up the stairs to her room.  As I brought my knee up to take each step up the stairs it would thump gently into her dangling legs.  Her feet swinging about, somewhere around mid-calf on me.  I cradled her head with one hand and held her up to my body with my other gently cupped under her bottom, just as I do with Lola.   How was it that she had grown so big?  Never needing to go anyplace that her own two legs can't take her?  Before this week I couldn't remember the last time I carried her anywhere.  But strangely this was the third time in as many days that I had her in my arms in that way.  What a stark contrast to the baby I hold in my arms for most of the hours of the day.  Sometimes I feel closer to the baby that Meg was now because I am reflecting on those months of her infancy as I go through the same things with Lola.  And then she says something so remarkable, pulling words into her vocabulary that sound years beyond her 6 year old self.  Or she accepts things with a grace and maturity that astound me.  Or I simply slow down and look at her. Her body moving with the sureness and agility of an athlete. Or I carry her up to bed... her feet coliding with my calf with each step.