Five little fingers and five little toes
She fell asleep in my arms at six last night, in the early bars of the first lullaby.
I would say this never happens, but of course it did this once.
I gently rolled her into bed, with just two tiny murmured protests so faint you could barely hear them.
With the light still streaming into the room I couldn't resist capturing the five little fingers and five little toes that emerged from the sheets once she had settled on her side. Those toes and fingers that don't seem so little to me during the day, bouncing from place to place leaving a trail of mess in their wake, and yet in the stillness of her sleep so so small.
Time plays weird tricks when you have children, it seems barely a second since she slid into the bathwater and was lifted up into my arms, it seems like forever since I had a solid night sleep.
No matter what the time does and how far too big she grows, I wouldn't miss these quiet moments marvelling at tiny fingers and toes for anything.