So Much for Sleeping Late

This morning was my chance to sleep late.  Never mind I heard Little One before Darling heard her, as usual.  Never mind I had to mention she's awake and he might want to get out of bed, as usual.  Those two facts alone made sleeping late a challenge, as usual.  

Darling finally rolled out of bed.  I willfully closed my eyes and slowed my breath, hoping to catch more sleep.  Seconds later, I heard Little One beating on the door.  Have I mentioned she's back in separation anxiety mode?  Yeah, this is what I heard from my bed:


>bang-bang-bang<  "M-m-m-m-m-m-m-m-a-a-a-a-m-m-m-m-a-a-a-a-a-a?!" >bang-bang-bang<  


Did you catch the hiccuppy-crying quality in her voice?  How can I a) possibly sleep through such a ruckus, and b) let her suffer like that?  Little Layla Grace flashed through my head and the idea that I'd regret opening the door forced my tush out of bed.


So I opened the door.  And she ceased wailing and flung herself in my arms.  She won't always want to meld herself in my arms.  I'll catch more sleep when she's older.  So the next time you're at the park and see a worn-out woman holding a child who won't let go, yeah - that's me.  Please be kind.  I'm sleep-deprived.