Sock Me in the Stomach, Why Dontcha.

"It just feels better when someone tucks me in."  

That would be my biggest girl.  Amelie.  My sweet one who carries the weight of the world on her shoulders.  The one who was the oldest of three at the ripe old age of three and a half.  The one who I shoo off when she asks to be tucked in again, after getting up from bed for whatever reason.  "You're a big girl."  I chide.  "You can handle it."  "I've already tucked you in!"  "Go!"  I demand.  Ugh.

She's only six and a half!  She's only in first grade!  

She isn't perfect, by any means.  But she is so good to her younger sister and brother.  She is so helpful to me in so many ways.  And while I don't want her to grow up too fast (She still likes to watch Barney.  shhh... don't tell anyone!) I do require a lot of her.  She's very mature in many ways and has always been very pensive.  She's compassionate and passionate and has really big feelings for someone so small.  But: 

She's only six and a half! She's only in first grade!

So, thank you Lord.  Thank you for the middle-of-the-night snuggles from my "big" girl.  Thank you for giving me joy when she asked me to tuck her in upon being told it was time to go back to her bed.  Thank you for her whispered reminder to my heart:

"It just feels better when someone tucks me in."    

Of course it does!  

She's only six and a half!  She's only in first grade!

And I'll tuck her in for as long as she'll let me.