It was a dark and stormy night...
And a two year old was in my bed, kicking me in the ribs at three in the morning.
Two year olds are a strange breed. They have the power to both infuriate you and melt your heart, very often in the same two minute span. This particular two year old was tossing and turning, obviously thrown off by my request that he sleep while we spent a few days at my parents' house. For him, this concept didn't make sense. Why would he waste time sleeping at Granny's when there are endless sugary treats to consume, countless new toys to play with, and practically no rules? To sleep would be to betray his less fortunate brethren--the two year olds who were stuck at home with boring old Mom and Dad.
So, he fought it.
And just when I was about to take him back to his bed and let him deal with it, he looked at me with heavy eyes and said, "Mama, hold my hand." And that was it. He had me at "Mama." I held his chubby little hand and he dozed off.
I should have immediately passed out, considering how exhausted I was. But, some moments are just too perfect to sleep through.