In case you can't tell from some of my posts, my daughter is 14 months going on 14 years. She's wildly independent and basically lets me know this on a daily basis. Tonight, however, I got a much-loved reminder that she's still my baby.
She always wants to put herself to sleep (with pink puppy and small dog, of course). Tonight, though, I put her in her crib, she stood up, lifted her arms up, said "mom?" (yes, my baby calls me Mom, not Mama, not Mommy, but Mom. My husband is also Dad) I said, "What, Sarah?" and she picked up her dog and pointed to the glider for me to rock her to sleep. For 30 minutes. 30 glorious minutes she wasn't my independent girl, she wasn't a free spirit, and for a while I even got to forget that her 33 inches of height is overwhelming to my 5'1 frame as she snuggled in close. For 30 minutes, she was just my baby again. And I loved every second.
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