July 18 – “Tap Dance on the Wall”

Cailyn got here last night right at what Nathan assured me was her bedtime.  In fact, to make it seem like he was telling the truth, when I picked her up to say hello, she put her head down on my shoulder and snuggled in.  He left and she stayed there.  She even closed her eyes.  Her breathing got slow and regular.  Her muscles relaxed.  For all intents and purposes she appeared to be asleep.  So I took her into "her room" and put her on the bed.  I should have guessed.  It was all a ruse.  The moment her little body touched the bed she was up in a flash, laughing and jabbering and ready to play.  I gave it a brief try to keep her there just in case it was a fluke.  It wasn't.  So we went back into the den and played and watched the Astros lose the rest of their game.   Mom finally gave up and went on to bed.  A little before ten I finally went around and turned out all the lights.  That helped.  Cailyn climbed into my lap and we watched the end of some show I have never seen before about rookie cops.  By about the middle of the ten o'clock news she finally gave up.  I could feel the relaxation hit her.  But I had been fooled once before.  I stayed put for an extra ten minutes or so before taking her on to bed.  This time the eyes stayed closed.  I went on to bed, too, once again appreciating Chris and wishing she was here.    Just as I was brushing my teeth, the bedroom door creaked open just a bit.  I thought I had once again been had.  But no.  This time it wasn't Cailyn.  It was Mom.  But she had been asleep for a long time.  She wanted to know if I wanted her to turn the light on in Cailyn's room.  "There is one in there, you know," she informed me.  "No, that's OK," I managed to whisper, muffling an urge to laugh and scream at the same time.  "She's asleep.  She can't see it anyway."  All clear.  All to sleep.  Tomorrow is Sunday.  I need the rest.   Ah, but strange things happen late in the night.  At straight up two a.m. I heard the cry, muffled and distant and not in terror, rather a sound of slight distress.  Instantly I leapt to my feet and raced into Cailyn's room.  There she was.  Sitting up in the bed.  Smiling from ear to ear.  She greeted me with a big "Hi!"  OK.  Much better than crying for Mommy, I guess.  So I crawled in the bed with her and tried to get her to settle back down.  Not so much.  She never got out of the bed, but boy did she ever use every square inch of it.  She bounded from end to end, talking constantly about whatever it was.  She knew exactly what she meant, so I just nodded and chuckled at her antics and grunted an occasional "Is that right?"  My all time favorite of the night, though was when she rolled over on her back, braced herself against me, and did an incredible tap dance on the wall.  Watch out "America's Got Talent."  A little before four she finally started to settle down.  Some.  That is, until DadDad fell out of the bed.  She thought that was pretty funny.  Hey.  It was 4 a.m.  I was kind of sleepy.  And I had been perched precariously on the edge of a twin sized bed for two hours.  After we both somewhat recovered from the incident, I decided it was time to relocate in a larger environment.  We moved to our bed so I would be less likely to crash again.  As we left the room she remembered something and ran back.  What did she return with?  One of her blankets.  Sure.  But what was that in her other hand?  She proudly held it up for me to see.  It was … no, not her stuffed monkey.  Not her Daddy's stuffed dog.  Not the baby doll.  Not one of the other three blankets she had in there.  No.  Cailyn salvaged something much more important to her.  A shoe.  Just one.  And she was fine.  She went to sleep almost immediately in our bed, clutching the shoe.    When she awoke this morning at seven, the first thing she did was head back into her room and grab the other shoe.  Then she walked to the front door, once again jabbering all the way.  The only clear word in her discourse, which popped up several times, was, "Mommy."  When Mommy got there, she was very excited to see her, but of course she wasn't ready to leave just yet.  She stopped short of giving her a big welcome hug and maturely said, "Hi, Mommy."  That's my girl.   Psalms 138:8 says, "The Lord will fulfill [his purpose] for me; your love, O Lord, endures forever."   Father, thank you for Cailyn.  Help that girl to get a good nap today.  I think she's gonna need it.  Amen.