Some days, I'm not gonna lie... my house looks like the set of a creepy horror film.
I have "sleeping babies" all over my house. In every room. Every day.
Seriously, no where is safe. I turned on the lights in Radley's room to find this. Stuffed bear. Big pillow on top of a soft pallet with a taggie. And I'm not sure what's sweeter...
This scene or the fact that he just walks around it, leaves it there, and let's his sisters be good little mommas.
Kitchen floor. At dinner time, and I am instructed to whisper.
So I do. I step over them. I walk around them. I feed them. And hold them and reswaddle them (because even my girls know the magic of a swaddle.)
And it would be easy not to. Heck, it would be like me to make them clean up because, I am guilty of being on the neurotically tidy side. But I don't.
I just let them be.
Because I remember the newborn stage...and you never wake a sleeping baby.