And so it begins, again.
The wondering why in the world I let Jeremy talk me into moving her to the toddler bed.
The falling out of said toddler bed two and three times a night.
The "Mommy is here to rescue you while Daddy lays in bed. Snoring."
legs stuck in the slats.
The one difference is the way in which she sleeps, the new reason why she wakes up.
And her precious little hand, barely poking through a new set of slats.
My baby. Who, at 23 months and 22 days, continues to wake me up through out the night. This time, though, she's fallen out of bed. Again.
The sweetness, though. That incredible sweetness remains.
I'd be willing to bet they'll always be sweet and perfect. Though, I might still have to sneak in their rooms and snap a few more photos to prove just what perfectly sweet teenagers they still are.