fly

I thought I had it down to an art.

It seemed to be going so well.

Then one night, at 2 am, she woke up.

I entered the room, laid her little whimpering body lovingly back on her sheets, and laid a warm hand on her back. (mine)

She calmed, slowly, and eventually closed her eyes.

I thought I was home free.

I walked to the door.

"WWAAAAAA!!!!"

Back I went, hand on back, calming her back to sleep.

This had been a growing trend. The "don't you dare leave before I'm fast asleep" attitude was flooding my little girl's brain nightly.

I stood, having removed my hand from her back, having stood up straight, having watched her eyes close - then open - then close, having listened to her breathing starting to slow, having wished that there were some way to float out of the room.

The brand new townhouse unit we moved into showed like a show suite. There was one problem though. Perhaps it would have only been an issue for picky people, but we were a couple with a light sleeping baby. A loud squeak sounded every time we walked along the hallway by the bedrooms.

That would never do.

We arranged to have it fixed.

It was.

Then a week later it was back.

Then there were more squeaks. In our room. In hers. In the computer room beside hers.

Don't laugh. I like drawing.

I don't blame anyone for the squeaks. I don't blame Plava for being a ridiculously light sleeper. Sometimes you can't avoid those things.

We wonder though, if our tiptoeing around while she was a sleepy newborn who was able to sleep through a Michael Buble concert affected her sensitivity to noise. We'll never know.

So as I stood in her room, wondering how I was ever going to be able to walk out of the room without waking her, slip back into my bed, and drift happily off to sleep again, I thought about flying dreams. I wanted to fly out of the room - forget about the floor.

In my flying dreams I have to flap my arms really hard to lift off. It's a problem when I'm being pursued by bad guys, but I always manage to escape them. Usually I'm just too smart for the dummies.

In my fatigue that night, gazing longingly at the door, I actually tried out my arms. I had to be absolutely sure that it wouldn't work.

No laughing.

Have you ever tried it out?

Well, it didn't work. I stood as grounded on that floor as if I was stapled to it.

I did eventually manage to escape the room, by foot, without waking the wee sensitive one, and slipped thankfully back into bed.

And she slept until 8.