The Stare

Right before Sadie takes a nap, she gets really fussy. I mean fussy at the breast, at my jokes, at my singing-- all of it. She just won't settle or be still. That's when we give her the ultimate treatment: We swaddle her with two blankets that we *may* have stolen from the hospital and bounce her around until she finally lets her eye lids droop so she can sleep.

When she's in her last few moments of pre-sleep, she stares off her right shoulder and there is no distracting her. I could sing Broadway tunes at the top of my lungs, but she wouldn't look away for a nanosecond. It almost seems like she's meditating and in the most peaceful place in her little mind. Then, in the next moment, her eyes are closed and we have to do without her pleasant company for a few hours. It's always bittersweet because when she sleeps I miss her, but it's a chance to take care of business around the house or join her in sweet slumber.