Last night I was sitting in the rocking chair with my 2-yr-old, trying to get her to calm down from her "Yo Gabba Gabba Boom Box" high. It was nice and dark, quiet, just sweet little G sitting in my lap with her body relaxed against mine. She wanted me to sing Itsy Bitsy Spider, so I did, while she sang along in her own little just-turned-two language, and softly made the accompanying hand and finger motions of the spider.
Once wasn't enough (it's not that long of a song really), so by the third time, I started to think "ok, I have to wake up at 4am for work...how many times will we have to sing this??" And then it hit me. There's going to come a day when she will absolutely not want me to sing her to sleep. She will roll her eyes at me and be too big to snuggle her sweet little Dora night-gowned body with mine. There will come a day when I will BEG her for a good-night hug.
Sitting in that rocking chair, I could literally see and feel her somewhere around age 16...not remembering or even knowing this amazing few minutes ever happened. I started crying. I missed her already.
I didn't want her to know I was crying, so I just sang softer, and she responded in perfect sync, quieting her own voice. I don't know how many times we ended up sending that little spider up and down that water spout, but I know that I'm not ready for it to stop.