I wish I had photos for you to go with this story, but you will understand why I don't.
Last night, Cora had a hard time falling asleep. It started with her being upset about not being allowed to take a bath in the green tub (really, a tub for your iced beverages!) on the deck after dinner. Granted, she was smeared in ketchup, chocolate pudding, dirt, sunscreen, and whatever they had for lunch at daycare. But, it was getting late for her to be starting a bath, so it was a washcloth only night. Not a popular decision.
But, eventually we got the pjs on, the teeth brushed, the baby upstairs with daddy for stories. Lots of stories. And some songs. And some crying. We let it go on a while. It got to the "clearly I have lost control" stage and I went up with a cuppy of water. Sang some songs in my scratchy summer-cold voice. Said goodnight to the many pictures on the walls. Then Daddy tried again. Another cuppy of water.
Then it was my turn again. I didn't want to pour another cuppy of water into the girl, but I did think she might be getting overheated, what with the warm day and the crying. So, I took up a cool washcloth. I washed her face and arms and hands and legs. I kept wiping her forehead and she was starting to look a little sleepy. Chris had already turned on her CD of Portuguese lullabies (why Portuguese lullabies? Because I didn't know they were all in Portuguese when I bought it, but they are pretty, and there are worse things than growing up making a connection between Portuguese and sleep).
So, I folded up the washcloth and laid it over her eyes and we sat there listening to the music, Cora quiet, thumb in mouth, me rubbing her arms and legs softly. Finally, I thought she was asleep, so I peeled up a corner of the washcloth. Only to find her awake and smiling. She looked up at me and said “Moooore!”
I put her in bed with the washcloth over her eyes and she went right to sleep.