She wants to get into my bed and sleep with me. Much as I love the sound of her breathing next to me and the feel of her little arms around my neck, this cannot happen because after an hour or so, she'll be laying diagonally across my mattress, her precious feet exploring my whole body with kicks. Then, in the morning, I'll be red eyed from lack of sleep and she'll miss out on The Fun because I'll be too exhausted to play with her or walk up and down these hills. Then we'll niggle at each other for much of the day - one bored, the other in a haze.
I carry her back to her own bed.
"I want to go."
"You want to go where?"
"To Mummy's bed." She's crying. I kiss her, I stroke her and I explain that she can see me in the morning and then I leave her.
She sneaks in again, I take her back to her room.
And again. And again. I discipline her the SuperNanny way and say nothing, communicating to her my strength in pure determination and will. She is a very good match, reluctant to concede. This continues, her cries turning into screams.
I have to see this through.
And then, suddenly, she stops resisting and remains in her own space. The protests, however, continue through great big, excruciating sobs. After a while, her pleas become less audible and less convinced as tiredness overtakes My Girl's beautiful, sturdy body:
"I want my Mummy. I want my Mummy. I want my Mummy. Come on Mummy. Come on. Come on. Mummy Come on. I want you Mummy. I want you for ages. I want you for ages. Come on Mummy. I want my Mummy. Come on, come on. It's not fair. I want you Mummy. I want you. Come on Mummy. Mummy. Come on. Come on. Come on ...."
Silence from the other room. No peace in my head.