On preschool nights Ellie has the worst time falling asleep. So many thoughts and conversations are swirling around in her little head and she just can’t shut them up.
I’ll read her a story (hopefully one that does not include Barbie) and get her all snuggled in bed and she’ll keep popping her head up, remembering a mermaid Katie brought in for show and tell or how the new boy didn’t know the rules (“He got up when we were in the circle, momma!”).
By the time her eyelids start drooping, I’m pretty sure she has given me a play-by-play of her entire school day.
I came downstairs one night, particularly exasperated at the length of time it took for her to fade and my husband just stared at me, smirking.
“Apples and trees, my friend.”
I looked at him in exaggerated horror. “What are you implying?”