The Giggles Down the Hall

I awoke at 2:40 am to something.  And that something appeared to be sleeping, two little girls on a loft bed, silent and still.  I knew better though.  The cat knew better. And I let them be.  They knew I was on to them anyway, and they were the ones who were going to be exhausted the next day.


The cat, on the other hand, was not as interested in my methods.  She made lots of little noises in protest, running throughout the house, purring next to my legs, and begging me, beckoning me to get them to sleep, so she could sleep.  She sleeps in The Redhead's room, with The Redhead, and not only is she not a fan of sleepovers, she's not a fan of The Redhead staying up late.  We're cutting into kitty time.  We're spoiling her routine.


But I'll tell you what I told Alexandra; they're only little once.  And they can pretend to be sleeping all they want, and spout out a few giggles again at 3:20 am, because before we all know it, I'm going to miss those little giggles, the innocence, the sleepovers, and the cat pleading for The Sandman.  And out of all the changes The Redhead has experienced with our grand move from The Midwest, this experience of sleepovers is a welcomed change.  She's been a true sport throughout it all, adjusting beyond my wildest expectations, so it's such a pleasure to witness her engage in such sweet friendships.


We still need to get her to the point she'll ask us if someone can come over without massive stuttering and fear that we'll only say "no."  She just twists and sways and loses eye contact with us as she avoids asking us the simplest of questions.  And we make her ask.  And we delight in her expressions as she realizes we just agreed.  Because they're only little once.  And sometimes, those giggles in the hall are the most joyous sound in the world.  I just know, someday I will miss them.