Jensen
Callit a sixth sense every parent developed over time, but I knew the moment I was no longer alone in my room.
I kept my eyes closed and held in a groan. This was the fifth morning in a row.
Small hands touched my face. I let out a pretend growl, eliciting a tiny wave of giggles from my tormentor just as I rolled on my side, away from her.
She used the tiny steps I had placed at the foot of my bed specifically for her, before I felt the bed shift, and then she was sitting at my side.
“Daddy,” she said softly. At first.
I groan. She giggled.
“Not now. Daddy’s sleeping.”
“No sleep, Daddy! Daddy wake.”
I hugged the pillow and buried my face in it. I should have known better, because the next thing I knew, my hair was being pulled with tiny fists.
I let out a playful roar, sitting up on the bed, which had the little tormentor laughing loudly.
“You woke the monster, little princess,” I said in an exaggerated, growly voice.
Her laughter became more shrill. She knew what was going to happen next. She tried to run away. But it was too late. I caught her in my arms and flipped her upside down.
Her laughter filled the entire room, bringing out a smile to my face.
“Daddy, no! Daddy! Lodie sorry. Lodie no wake Monster Daddy no more. Lodie promise.”
I might believe her if she wasn’t laughing so much.
I righted her, grasping her by the armpit and holding her up at arm’s length. She made a reaching motion with her hands while I tried to maintain a firm expression.
“Elodie May. Why are you up so early?”
She gave me a tiny shrug, shooting me her mother’s smile and showing off two rows of tiny teeth in the front. She had a bit of drool dripping down her chin, as her gray eyes—my eyes—flashed with mischief.
My little girl was trouble.
And I wouldn’t have her any other way.
I sat down on the bed and placed her on my lap, facing me.
I rubbed my tired face with my palm, trying to feel more human at this ungodly hour, before I peeked through my fingers for the time. Not even six yet.
She had been getting up earlier than me recently. At two, she had just figured out how to climb out of her crib. A problem I was looking to solve that would make both of us happy, but short of bringing her crib into my room and letting her sleep here until she was ready for a big girl’s bed, I didn’t know what to do.
Or was she ready for a big girl’s bed?
Another question I didn’t know the answer to. I’d read every parenting book out there in the world, but most of the advice was based on an age range, and not the exact age. Most books told you to rely on your parental instinct, but it was hard to do when I didn’t know if my parental instincts were correct half the time.
I didn’t know how Jace had done it.
He made parenting Elliot look easy.
I knew that wasn’t the case, but fuck if I didn’t want some of his confidence.
This was easier when she had cried to let me know she was awake. Now she’d climb out of her crib before I was even up.