Write about a sleeping child

I creep into your room and peek at you.
You are illuminated by a teddy bear night light; stuffed animal friends stare back at me with quizzical faces.

I lean in and deeply inhale, smelling a mixture of sweet baby breath and gentle soap from your evening bath; a bath that washed away the orneriness of the day. Tantrums rinsed off, tears erased, toddler messes wiped clean

They are a distant past as I admire your pale cheeks in profile, half moons of unblemished flesh, kissed by long delicate lashes, your little rosebud mouth slightly ajar

You are trusting and vulnerable, breathing softly near my ear.
I feel a surge of protectiveness wash over me and I ache at the thought of someone hurting you, crushing your spirit.

I hover by your bed, whispering a prayer to keep you safe and content as I stroke back your blonde feathers of hair and kiss your forehead, still spongy with baby fat.

I am at peace knowing you are safely tucked in, one room away.
Tomorrow will bring more toddler trials. I bid you goodnight, knowing I will need my rest to persevere.