The first time was at night. Our plans for an early dinner out with my mother-in-law were thwarted by slow service at the restaurant. We got home well after SB's bedtime, and she did crash in the car. A rare event.
A few days later, as we returned home from a visit with my dad, I turned around to find this:
I was shocked. I'm not exactly sure when she fell asleep, but I certainly didn't want to rouse her. It was a cool afternoon, so I opened all the car doors and hung out in the driveway until she woke.
A few days later, after a play date at the pool, I was not quite as surprised when this happened:
When she woke she was super drowsy, so I got in the glider in our bedroom and began to rock. She went right back to sleep. In my arms. It was so strange, and yet so familiar. I rested my chin on the top of her head, breathing her in as we rocked back and forth together. It was so peaceful, and brought back so many memories.
She barely fit in my lap. Her legs hung over the arm rest of the chair. She is no longer a baby; at four she comes almost to my chest. But our bodies remembered how to fit together. It was one of those beautiful moments that makes all the struggles of motherhood worthwhile.