Kristin Hill Taylor

Seeking God as the Author of Every Story

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2:22 a.m.

August 24, 2007 by Kristin Leave a Comment

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.

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Filed Under: Cate, motherhood

Comments

  1. bt says

    August 24, 2007 at 4:19 pm

    lol…that is funny.

    babies are so funny. i wish i could just get a glimpse into what they are actually thinking.

    Reply
  2. Anonymous says

    August 25, 2007 at 8:48 pm

    So sweet! Aren’t they precious? 🙂

    Shelley

    Reply

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About Me

Telling stories is my therapy and I love sharing them with friends on my porch.

The main characters in my stories are my entrepreneur husband, our eighth-grade girl who never forgets, our have-no-fear fifth-grade boy, and our joy-filled preschool girl. As we live out our stories, we seek God as the author of them all.

Learn more about my story here.

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