By this point, I instinctively know when my daughter is tired. (I use the word "instinctively" because I haven't figured out how to explain the exact combination of hints and clues I use to any one else, but I know.) When we walk into her darkened room, she will put her head on my shoulder, and suck her thumb, then I sing to her. And I am overwhelmed with the love of that moment, when she is sweet, and small, and tender, and mine. She trusts me completely, and I love her completely. And every time this happens, I want to hold her like that forever.
And I would, except that she won't go to sleep that way. In fact, frequently, after a few moments, she lifts her head and starts interacting with the world again (right now it often involves a very enthusiatic pounding of my arms and chest). So I have to put her down in her crib, where she rolls to her side to suck her thumb and falls asleep (sometimes with a token cry of dismay, sometimes not).
It's good that she'll go down like this, it allows me to do my work, it gives us both a needed break, so I'm so very, very grateful that she goes down so easily, but couldn't I hold her just a minute more?
