The power went off in our house a couple nights ago. It went off at midnight; our alarm system let us know.
Lila, our daughter woke to the noise, and, as her nightlight was not lit, she wasn’t likely to go back to sleep. So, we brought her into our bed, thinking that she may be comforted and go back to sleep.
How wrong we were. For two hours Chey and I wearily endured little fingers in our ears, pajama feet shoved into our necks, flailing arms, and her little voice whispering to us, “Mommy sleeping, Daddy,” and, “Daddy sleeping, Mommy,” and, “My sleeping too.”
Which neither of us bought for a second.
At times she actually did lie down and rest. But just for a couple minutes at a time.
Honestly, not to be such a complaining parent, I enjoyed it a bit, laughing at our situation and appreciating our daughter.
At 2 a.m. the power came back on and she went back to her room to sleep. Though she was back up at 7, unphased.