Of Boundaries

I can't be the only parent to have experienced that moment - the one in which you wish you hadn't caught them in their disobedience because now, in your striving for consistency, you have to issue consequences, rather than just closing the door quietly, whispering, "Carry on."

Because that's what I truly desired to do after hearing muttering in their room - a sure sign they're not sleeping, for the umpteenth night in a row - and entering to discover an empty bed for Emmett and the two of them laying side-by-side - he even covered by his own blanket he'd brought with him - snuggled on her bed, talking quietly - about life and the golden moon, I'm sure.

And what is a parent to do, really, when this crawling out of his bed to play with his sister is the habit you've been working to break for nearly a year now, but the thought of them falling asleep this way, soul-to-soul, is the most precious time you could imagine for them?

I put an end to it, then. I truly had to, for consistency's sake (right?) - but all I truly desired was that I'd never opened the door in the first place.

Sometimes I love them so much it hurts.