Lips part to reveal two tiny gapped teeth. A soft whistle punctuates her sleep, as her chest rythmically rises and falls. Legs crossed at ankles rest against Mommy’s thigh – insurance that she will remain close. Her arms are cast out from her sides, palms up, while fingers touch to form a pinch. Eyes gently closed, a shroud of lashes decorating. She’s oblivious of the illuminated room, unphased by the chatter of the television.
In the morning, she’ll rouse, rubbing her still half mooned eyes with clenched fists. Looking around, she’ll announce she’s ready to begin the day. And then she will smile.