Dreaming

I was dreaming about Emma today. How once upon a time, she was a small tiny baby. How she would sleep next to me in our bed, tummy to tummy we'd lay, she'd sleep, I'd stare at her. I was dreaming of last summer, when she wore tiny diapers and tiny clothes. When Eli would beg and beg me to make her play with him. I was dreaming about the night when I reluctantly gave in to David placing Emma's sweet 4 month old self in Eli's old crib for the night. "She's too little," I cried, "she needs to stay with us." My sleep deprived self didn't have the strength to fight, I caved, only to discover our 4 month old daughter can sleep through the night in her very own room. 

Now, one year later, she's walking and talking and playing. Eli got his wish, Emma plays. I got my wish, Emma sleeps (well!). David got his wish, Emma sleeps in her own room. Right now, I don't miss the baby stage because I don't have time to. My heart is constantly skipping a beat when I see my son and daughter interact. She's Eli's shadow. She's all he could have ever hoped for in a sister. He hasn't said it with is own word, but he has said it with his eyes.