Every night, without exception, I sneak in and peek at Mary and Kate sleeping. Jack used to badger me about this habit for fear that I would wake them, but I can't give it up. I'm exhausted at night, completely worn out, so that when I close their door after the last of about 32 good-nights and I LOVE YOU's, I lean on the door frame, sigh, and move to the couch to collapse for a minute or two. But two hours later, when it's my turn for bed, I have to go in and have a look at them. I simply cannot get enough. And, because I am just a bit crazy, I reach in and put my hand on their backs, just to make sure they are breathing, everything is working just the way it should. And it is, which I find amazing, still, after almost four years of doing this.
And then in no time morning comes, and we start all over again, thankfully.