Most mornings, between 4-5am I snuggle my nearly four year old in her sleep. It is timed as strategically because it won’t wake her up no matter what I do and I am able to hug and kiss her more than I would like to admit because if I do it while she is awake it inevitably ends up in a bargain for an extra hour of cartoons. This kid knows she’s cute and I’m vulnerable.
No matter what I do, motherhood still seems unbelievable to me.
This girl who doesn’t fit my lap any longer yet sprawls herself across me (thankfully so far) many times a day like a growing Labrador unaware of their size, this extremely intelligent little being with her creativity adorning every nook of our house, has her anecdotes and gems littered across our days.
The girl with the sun in her of a child yet the moon of an old soul in her eyes.
She was the little blip on the ultrasound that didn’t make us feel a thing except maybe hum se pehle vaali aunty ki video hogi (must be a rerun of the mother before us!). Right up to me waiting for her deep sleep to hug her a little more before I give in to her constant demands of a separate bed.
I have warned her that I might end up in her bed most nights and she has agreed to pit me to sleep in my bed before she goes to sleep in hers every night. Let’s see how that goes.
I love her. I know I’m supposed to because she’s my child but I genuinely love her as a person. Like a girl I’d like to be friends with if I met her in the playground.
Motherhood? Still unbelievable
