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Baby Dearest,

I promise I will love
the wonderment in your eyes when
their wide open sparkle is not reflecting the bluish
nightlight of the sound machine,
designed by Professionals to enhance
your quality of sleep.

I promise I will love
your astounding babbles,
the “hi mamas” and “night night dadas” in
pure, crystalline tones
when they are not accompanied
by the rhythmic hibernation of daddy and brother bears,
who have graduated to sleeping through the night,
but who would not accept my resignation as
Sleep Instructor.

I promise I will love
those sweet snuggles and wide mouthed smooches
when my eyelids are not competing
for my affections and are more willing
to remain open at their post.

I promise I will love
the way you flop over me and lay your head
on my chest when the glaring red
numbers on the clock are not rubbing
the wee hours of two to five-thirty all over
the bags under my eyes,
and when the numbers that greet me
are ones that the average person would recognize
with a chipper “good morning.”

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