Ten minutes later, she was still moaning and crying, so I quietly opened her door to see if she wanted any mommy snuggles. She most definitely did not. She had thrown her lovey blanket, her quilt, her pillow, her big puppy, and her little puppy on the floor, and she was sitting defiantly in the middle of her empty bed. I tried to sit next to her and see if she would let me hold her or at least put her bed back together, but she wasn't having it. So, once again, as I closed her door, my heart broke a little.
Ten minutes later, all the noise from the monitor had stopped. I remembered that my poor, angry toddler had thrown all her blankets and pillows on the floor, and she must surely be cold. Or maybe I was looking for a good excuse to check on her just one last time. I snuck down the hallway, turned the knob on her door, and just barely cracked it open. There was Cara, sleeping soundly under her quilt, snuggled with her lovey blanket, with her big puppy by her feet. She had put her little puppy on top of her pillow before she laid her little head down. Everything was exactly the way she wanted it.
And my heart broke.
It swelled with love for her sweetness and sadness for her independence. Sometimes I don't think I can possibly love her any more than I already do, and then...I just do.