Lately, CC's been having trouble sleeping. Actually, she just avoids it as much as possible.
So I wasn't surprised when she came into the living room last night, when I was typing away on the computer, and asked if she could sleep on the couch.
She had been sick this weekend, and Ian had been working a lot, so I thought I would indulge her a little even though it was late.
"OK, Sweetheart," I said, "but Mommy's working. You need to get some rest."
"Mommy's working?" she asked.
"Yes, now go to sleep. I'm right here."
And that lasted only a few minutes.
Pretty soon, I heard her padding around, pulling out tissues and putting them on the cat.
I turned around, exasperated, and said, "This isn't play time. It's time to go to sleep."
She looked up at me, in her footed pajamas, tissue in hand and grabbed one of the blinds on the window.
After rubbing a spot where she had smeared green crayon marks a few weeks ago, she said, "I working, too. I clean the windows."
And all of the exasperation left me, like air from a deflating balloon.
I sat down, hugged her and kissed her cheek.
Then she took the tissue and starting rubbing it on my face and in my hair.
"I clean Mommy, too."