Not on Her Watch

Last night after work, I was able to go straight home and stay home. For the first time in one week, seven days. Home.
The Dad had Man things to do, like Load Things Up in the Truck, and Go to the Meat Market. I decided to take the opportunity to spend a little QT with the lil' dude.
I took her into our bedroom, opened the window, and flopped onto the bed. God, was I exhausted.
I thought the baby may be as well, as she was napping at daycare when the Dad picked her up.
QT=NT (nap time) instead!

Mama: "Here, lil' dude, a yellow ducky to play with. Lay down here nice by me and plaaaay."
Baby: "No."
Mama: "What if I traced a spot on your forehead with my finger ever-so-lightly? Does that make you sleepy?"
Baby: "No."
Mama: "What if I rubbed small circles on your back while doing the 'shhhh-shhhh-shhhh' thing you love so much?"
Baby: "No."

This went on for the whole 25 minutes I had planned to take a serious power nap. As I lay there, willing my child to pass out, I thought instead about days like this in the future, her and I on the bed.
We'd talk about school, and our days, boys, about our friends. We would laugh about memories, and make plans for things to do together in the upcoming days and months. We would bond so effortlessly, we wouldn't even know we were doing it. We would just be that way, mother and daughter, hanging out on a bed with the window open.

Oh, OK. No, no, shit, no. I didn't think of that scenario, not for one second. I was just thinking the whole time,
"Ohpleaseohplease OH PLEASE go to sleep little girl, shhhhhPLEASEgotosleeptinybaby, ohpleaseohpleaseohPLEASE. SLEEP. NOW."