Sleeping Beauty (or how I learned I am crueler than a wicked step-mother)

In the wee hours of the morning, I woke up, and there was Annelie beside me, pajama-free (her sleeping preference), curled up in a shivering ball.

MY POOR SHIVERING BABY! I thought, as I grabbed the big brown blanket at Annelie's feet, and cuddled it up to her chin.

There's something completely satisfying about pulling a blanket up to your sleeping kiddo's chin. It never fails to give me those Chicken Soup for the Soul warm fuzzies, being the adoring mom, adoring my sleeping baby... Especially as she had probably run to my room from the other side of our dark, dark house, because of a bad dream.

I'm pretty sure I was smiling as I fell back to sleep, having done my parental duty of keeping my child warm and safe.

When my alarm clock woke me up an hour later, Annelie woke up too, and let out a joyous gasp. "You gave me brown blanket! Thanks, Mom!"

Her voice was thick and sleepy, and she smiled huge and closed her eyes again, snuggling into the blanket.

"I woke up and you didn't have a blanket," I told her, patting her head. "You poor thing. You looked so cold!"

She opened her eyes and gave me a funny look. "Yeah. I was cold. But remember? When I came in because I had a bad dream, I asked if I could have a blanket, but you said no."

Yeah, you read that right.

She asked for a blanket, and I SAID NO.

"Are you sure about that? I don't even remember you coming in," I said, just to clarify, because seriously!

"Yes, I'm sure. You always talk to me when I come in," she said. "You said no, and told me to just go to sleep."

And that, folks, is how I learned that I talk in my sleep. And that my sleep-self is a terrible mother.

How about you? Learn anything startling about yourself lately?

Happy Tuesday!

xoxo,