Last night JD woke up screaming from what I could only guess was a bad dream. (He's not really talking enough to explain that, but he said "yes" when I asked if something scared him. Do 20-month-olds understand the idea of being scared?) I rocked, sang, shushed, and swayed for a half hour, but he was not getting back in that crib. As my own precious sleep was slipping away, I took him out and snuggled on the couch. Every time I would lift my head away from his, he would pull it back. We fell asleep. This is how Hubby found us when he got home:
Yes, that is his little arm around my neck. And yes, my heart was melting.