I have a bed.
\nNothing particularly special about it compared to all the beds I\u2019ve ever seen in my life.
\nGray. With wooden legs.
\nTrue, it\u2019s quite big.
\nAlways \u201cmade up\u201d with plain bedding.
\nNo teddy bears, no rainbows, no extraordinary fluffiness, no other details that catch the eye.
\nJust a bed.<\/p>\n
But very often\u2014especially in the evenings\u2014I feel the urge to examine my bed closely:
\nDid someone smear the sides with honey? Maybe someone hid some treats in a \u201csecret spot\u201d?
\nOr perhaps someone attached a little lure to tempt the kids?<\/p>\n
Because in the evenings, a question settles into our home:
\n\u201cMom, can I still get into your bed?\u201d
\n\u201cCan\u2019t?\u201d
\n\u201cJust five minutes.\u201d
\nGlancing at the clock, I shake my head\u2014already all limits have been used.
\n\u201cAnd four?\u201d
\nI smile at the negotiating skills expressed through even rounder, wider eyes.
\n\u201cWell, three, and we shake on it\u201d\u2014understanding that I\u2019ve been defeated, the little one climbs into my bed, shouting beforehand to her negotiation ally: \u201cDaminykai, she said yes!\u201d<\/p>\n
Three minutes never really exist.
\nI would even doubt her ability to count the exact \u201cthree minutes\u201d on the clock.
\nMoreover, her birthday gift\u2014a very necessary little clock\u2014has gone missing. \u201cGod knows where\u201d from its necessity.
\nThe agreed-upon three minutes
\nusually turn into a relocation of movable property into her own little bed, carried by strong Daddy arms.
\nWithout waking up.
\nBecause falling asleep in Mommy\u2019s magical bed is magical too.
\n\u201cWithout waking.\u201d<\/p>\n
And then\u2026 I remember my own childhood.
\nI see my soft little bed decorated with squirrels, in a room shared with my sister.
\nSurrounded by plush toys and pillows, ready to guard our sleep.
\nAnd I remember\u2026 my mother\u2019s bed, ordinary in every way.
\nAnd that crazy desire to slip into it for just a few minutes before falling asleep.
\nI remember the time negotiations.
\nWhich I always won.
\nI remember those blissful moments drifting off, accompanied by Mommy\u2019s nimble fingers knitting nearby, the thread whispering softly.<\/p>\n
I don\u2019t remember if Dad ever carried me.
\nBut probably not necessary, because my sleep was magical.
\nBecause in the morning I would wake up in my little squirrel bed, surrounded by plush guardians of sleep.<\/p>\n
Then I realized that there\u2019s no need to look for honey, magnets, or wrapped candies, or to fuss over the evening \u201cjust five more minutes\u201d drama.
\nIn ordinary, unremarkable mothers\u2019 beds lives
\nsomething as simple as two pennies of love.
\nA basic, post-adventure calm that is so necessary.
\nAnd cozy, quiet conversations that prepare you for dreams.<\/p>\n
Just extended.
\nLonger than the agreed time.
\nAnd accidentally \u201cturned into\u201d sweet dreams.<\/p>\n
V.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"template":"","class_list":["post-17607","istorija","type-istorija","status-publish","hentry"],"acf":[],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/viktorijos.lt\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/istorija\/17607","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/viktorijos.lt\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/istorija"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/viktorijos.lt\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/istorija"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/viktorijos.lt\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=17607"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}