3am

At 3am this morning, Kayliana started yelling urgently, "Mommy! Mommy! MOMMY!!!"  I rushed in to her room to see what the problem was.

"What?!" I panted half-asleep and also a little alarmed with the urgency with which she'd been yelling.

As calmly as could be, she said, "I love you so much."  Like this is a totally normal thing to scream for at 3am.

I half-chuckled-groaned and responded, "I love you so much too, but let's not yell at 3am to tell me that, k?  Let's have you go potty since we're up."  I toss back her blankets and my hand hits something kinda hard.  Huh?

On top of her footy pajamas, Kayli was wearing the still-too-big-but-she's-desperate-to-wear-them pair of pink cheetah-print boots she'd received as a birthday present.  Also, perfectly normal at 3am on Wednesdays, apparently.  (For the record, she hadn't been wearing them when I'd put her to bed.)

My mom has told me the story of when I was four and had gotten a pair of shiny black Mary Janes.  When she tucked me in for bed that night, something told her to take a peek and, sure enough, I was sporting my new shoes in bed.  Like mother, like daughter.