2:22 a.m.

In the middle of the night, I heard Cate babbling happily. It seemed really dark in our bedroom, but I still remember thinking, “Is it already time to get up? Dang it.” Well, then I looked at the clock: 2:22 a.m. Good news: I didn’t have to get ready for work yet. But my daughter was “talking” to herself and doesn’t seem to mind that she’s awake at 2:23 a.m. (Yes, a minute probably passed with my thought process.)

So I fumbled for my glasses (like that’s going to help me see in the dark …) and went to her room. No, wait, I made a pit stop in the bathroom, but that’s not really part of this story. So, I opened her door. Yep, she had a lot to say. I leaned over her crib with the only light for her to see me or me to see her coming from the bathroom. (OK, see, yes, the pit stop was important.) But the light was enough for me to see her huge smile. It was like she was saying, “Oh, Mom, you heard me. I’m glad you came.”

My thoughts: “Yes, Cate, I’m glad I came too. You’re beautiful. You’re precious. Even at 2:24 a.m. Now, here’s your pacifer.”

I saw one more smile. I’m certain it was a smile because she couldn’t hang on to the pacifer and I had to put it back in her mouth. Then she rolled over as close to the bumper as she could get (which is how she likes to sleep) and apparently went back to sleep.

And when I left for work at 6:38 a.m., she was still sleeping.