Gotcha Day was an amazing day as we learned just how truly brilliant our daughter is. Yes, I know that all parents say that about their kids but in this case is so true it's almost bizarre. Within hours of being our daughter she copied me in writing her name in English. She mastered Angry Birds and became very familiar with the ins and outs of the Ipad. She loves to do things with her hands, draw, color, write, trace and will do almost any of it with ease. She is, not surprisingly, very orderly and puts everything away before beginning another project. (Don't be jealous). She detests shoes staying on feet once in our room and caught Michael tying his boot with his shoe on the bed and scolded him. He promptly obeyed. 

All went shockingly brilliantly until the sky went dark and snacks were had and it was obviously time for bed. We changed clothes and put jammies on. We didn't attempt a bath (although in hindsight we should have) because I'd heard horror stories of bathing soon after Gotcha regardless of age and didnt want to end the night in tears. 

Tears would flow anyway as once Michael mentioned that it was time to brush teeth she planted her feet on the ground and shook her head no. Her hands went to her tiny hips and upon being asked again she repeated her firm stance. Eventually she gave in and Michael brushed them when Kate and Josh both pulled out theirs to show her that it was ok. We knew she knew how to brush but just thought she was scared. I then sat on the floor and looked into her dark eyes and told her it was time for bed. She put her little fists up to her eyes and twisted them to what I thought was to mean "sleepy" and then I saw it... The one thing I'd not seen all day, her chin began to quiver, then her bottom lip began to move and no matter how much she wanted to fight it, huge crocodile tears fell from her beautiful black eyes. She had no intention of going to bed. 

I carried her into the room we shared and sat down on her bed and put her on my lap. I held her close and sang to her. I rubbed lavender lotion on her dry skin all with the hope of calming her spirit and getting her to lie down. But to no avail. She refused to look at me and continued to cry ever so softly from the depths of her being. Michael, the baby whisperer, took over while I showered and upon my re-entry declared his frustration with her refusal to put her head down on the pillow. 

Experienced mommies know battles worth picking and this one wasn't even a consideration. I have to admit being a bit upset that he'd even bother trying to win that battle when common sense and 22 years of parenting says we would win the war without even fighting. So, we kissed her tear soaked cheeks and let her just sit up in her bed. Eventually she would collapse onto her pillow from exhaustion and I'd be there to see it and cover her little self up. 

It took more than an hour before I heard the tell tale sounds of a sleeping child. She had given in to her much needed sleep. I covered her and went to sleep myself wondering what the next day would bring.