There tiny...

... and warm. They just reached out to touch me. I can feel her fingers. So fragile and small, but yet they have a way of letting me know how much she loves me, trusts me, and needs me. Its late. Very, very late for such a tiny pickle. Most pickles are sleeping at this hour, but mine...she has different plans for us tonight. In the dark her little hands find my face. She wants to play. I can't see the smile on her face, but I knows its there. I can feel it by the way she is reaching out for me. Her daddy has fallen asleep long before now. She gave up on him. His snoring makes her giggle with glee. She claps when he turns over. She thinks he is going to play, but I know better. He's not going to give in to her tonight. Its just us girls. Up for the night.

I love her hands. I love the way they show us what her little heart is feeling. When she is happy, she uses them to clap. When she is inquisitive, she uses them to figure things out. New toys, new books, new games. When she is sleepy, she uses them to rub those amazing eyes. When she is sad, she uses them to reach up for us. I love her hands, but I love them most when she has snuggled into my shoulder and she reaches out to me and begins to pat me with them as she is falling asleep.

As I type I am looking at those little hands that I love so very much. She has drifted off to sleep and they lay on her pillow folded so beautifully together. If I allow her to stay here in my bed I will surely be wakened in the morning by the tap, tap, tap of tiny fingers on my cheeks.