sneaky snuggler

the first thing i see every morning these days is susanna, standing at my bedside, flashing me a smile before she climbs into bed with me. and while she's heaving her soft chubby body up to the top of the mattress to curl up beside me, she says, "mommy, will you snuggle with me?" i can't think of a better way to start my day -- cuddling under the comforter as i stroke her hair and we talk about her dreams from the night before, or what she wants to wear to school, or what she requests for breakfast. fortunately for me, she's a gift that keeps on giving, for i hear those same five words repeated multiple times throughout the day. "will you snuggle with me in the family room?" she asks, before we squeeze onto the sofa. "will you snuggle with me on the deck?" before we curl up on one of the cushioned wrought iron chairs. "will you snuggle with me in my car seat?" before we -- well, before i tell her that there are some things that momma just can't do. it really is the sweetest thing. but it wasn't so sweet on friday night at about 3:00 a.m., when i awoke to the patter of her feet and a whimper at our doorway. "i cannot find Baby Bear," she wailed. now, i must admit that the thought of a possible disappearance of Baby Bear did not bother me in the least. it's this ratty teddy bear she got at the state fair a month ago, wearing a pink UNC t-shirt that has already started to pill and eyes that aren't quite level on its face. i shudder to think about where that thing has been and how many random people have held it and how much cigarette smoke it inhaled before my loving husband won it when the "stump the guesser" guy miscalculated his weight by 15 pounds. but i digress. so, i sighed quite loudly just in case chris wasn't aware of the disruption and of my selfless sacrifice, and trudged down the hallway to her room, cursing Baby Bear and its already-coming-apart-at-the-seams self under my breath. and as soon as we got to her bed, there, in the dark, with my eyes still not adjusted, i found the thing lying right next to susanna's dadgum pillow. how had she missed it? i wondered. i tucked her back into bed, secured Baby Bear to her side, and headed to the door. but not before i heard, "hey mommy, while you're here," in her little three-year old voice, "will you snuggle with me?"