Some nights

Sometimes the room next door is just too far away; we share a wall, but, on some nights, it seems too harsh a barrier. It's usually on a Friday night after a busy week or after we've spent too much time apart. I peek in her crib, and I just can't resist bringing her back to my bed with me. I scoop her up, noticing how this is the only time when she's calm and cuddly--when she's sleeping.

She quickly settles in next to me and reaches for my face or burrows her little hand under my arm. It feels good to have her so close; for that moment, all is right in the world.

About an hour passes, and she starts rolling over. She's mumbling behind that binkie of hers; the mumbling turns into little squeals. She starts hitting my face. Suddenly, she sits straight up and starts laughing hysterically. She realizes she's in Mama's bed, and she is so, so excited by the prospect of playing when she should be sleeping.

I laugh at her and realize that this co-sleeping arrangement just doesn't work for us. We like each other too much.

Back to her crib she goes.

All is right.