andamu

9.27 p.m. I look up when I catch some movement out of the corner of my eye. The sleepy face peeking around the door jamb is that of Angel Face, who had gone to bed almost two hours ago.

"What is it darling? Why aren't you sleeping?"
The pale little face with eyes at half-mast replies "I need some lovies, Doddamma."

Before she even finishes my arms are open and the pink and purple pyjama-flanneled four year-old is scampering onto the bed and snuggling next to me where I'm sitting on the covers, blogsurfing.

A little while later, still snuggling with gentle kisses planted on her forehead and her tushy rhythmically patted, she asks: "Can you warm me up with the blanket, Doddamma?"

"What do you mean, darling?" "I need to get under the covers," she pouts.

"Hmm, but you need to go and sleep in your own bed just now. Why do you want to get under the covers here?"
"Because my feet are soooo cold."

Now this child usually has ice cubes for hands and feet, so I rush to feel them. Nope, normal body temp. Also understand that at this stage it is a given that she'll be getting under the covers - the conversation is continuing merely for mild amusement.

"No darling, your feet aren't cold," I say.
She reaches down and feels with her hands, and since they're the same temperature she can't feel anything. So she does the next logical thing (for a 4yo that is); since Mommy and Doddamma always check temperature with our cheeks, she calmly reaches down, grabs her foot and places the sole of it flat on her own cheek.

"Hmm," she says, "it doesn't feel very cold."

Me, I'm speechless, and just silently open the covers to let the little caterpillar snuggle deep under the duvet.