Don’t you just wish you woke up feeling like this?
Everyday, she seems so happy to be awake, so thrilled that it’s morning again.
At night, between 7:30 and 8, I put her to bed, with – imagine a clock – her head at 12, her feet at 6. But, in her sleep, she pivots, kicking both legs up and then slamming them down, so that a few hours later, she’s at 11 and 5. Then 10 and 4. Something like this:
And, it’s like, the only thing keeping her from making it all the way around is she’s so long now. Her head bumps against the side of the bassinet.
So long now. And sleeping so well that it’s probably almost time to move her over into the crib in her own room. Exciting. And a little sad. We’ll miss our newborn Alice.
Here’s something no one told me, but that I will tell you in case you happen to be having a first baby:
There will be this moment, when she’s asleep in the other room, and you go in to check on her.
You find that she’s not asleep anymore. She’s talking to herself and playing with her hands. When she hears you, she looks up. When she sees you, she beams.
Like you’re a supermodel or something. Like there’s a big, bright halo behind your head.
And that’s when you gulp, and you think your heart might stop.
Your heart does not stop.
But, man, it aches.