Last night, Reilly called me into her room not long after we had put her to sleep and told me, “I don’t think I like my bed,” which is code for “I want to sleep in mommy and daddy’s bed.”
Typically I don’t grant this wish, but I wasn’t feeling well and didn’t have it in me to fight it out with her, so I put her in our bed and settled in next to her to wait for the sandman.
Unfortunately, I kept coughing, and each time I did so, Reilly would stir, put her little hand on my forearm, and say, “Daddy, are you sick?”
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