First, it was into those soft and shiny pink pajamas which have accompanied many many little girls to bed as they've traveled down the line from cousin to cousin and from sister to sister.
Then it was time to gather one's friends.
Next, the bedtime story, read by her favorite narrator.
Then a bit of narration of her own...
"Now, wub nothes."
Finally, off to sleep.
Ahhhh the good ole days of bedtime...way back in September.
September, when the passies were in full bloom
and Mr. Sandman had perfect attendance.
Here in January things are different!
Mr. Sandman has been truant, at best. The soft pink pajamas have been handed down and now live outside of these walls. The passies, a whole seperate post for the telling, have left us. The child who asked to be put down has grown into the child who needs a drink and her blankets straightened and her pillow adjusted and her doll is lost in the covers and...and...and...
Lord Byron once said,
(Molly sitting at the foot of my bed this weekend, awakened by fever, yet alert enough to discuss the plot of the cartoon on TV with me at 1:30 a.m. Did you know that there are kid's shows on TV... ALL NIGHT LONG? I didn't before this weekend, but I do now!)