(She'd gone without a nap and come bedtime was a MESS, wailing and trying to wriggle out of bed. So being a "bad mommy," I forced her back into bed.) My God, did it feel like she'd ripped the heart from my chest and trampled it underfoot. I admit it, tears sprung to my eyes. The Banker keeps telling me that "she's only 2, she was tired, get over it." But man, oh, man. I don't know if I'll survive the eventual teen-I-hate-you phase.
