It's the most wonderful time of the year day...

Naptime.

And before someone gets her panties in a knot, not, it's not because the baby is asleep and I can do things for me. Although I will go ahead and say, at the risk of being selfish, that every so often I need to evacuate bodily wastes and fuel my digestive system (not always in that order).

Most days, naptime is my favourite time of day because Kali pulls herself up, starts pawing at my shirt, and when I pick her up she immediately burrows her face into my neck. She is her most cuddly, peaceful self right before a nap. She nurses (all the while absently grabbing and releasing my clothes) and smiles and sighs and closes her eyes. Opens them. Closes them. Slurps on her right thumb, rests on my shoulder and drops off.

I love naptime. I love how it starts - with the cuddle I've just described - and I love how it ends - with her standing in the crib, arms outstretched and little tears glistening on her cheeks because she woke up and mummy wasn't there and she thought the universe was falling apart. And then mummy came back.

To Kali, I am the human version of duct tape. I hold her universe together. I'm an all-purpose solution to a myriad of problems, from sudden noises that startle her to a very full diaper to an empty tummy. Kali can use me to fix a toy, find the lost cheerio ("it was under the table, baby. You know, where you threw it."), or transport her outside. Like duct tape, I'm a tad sticky - once Kali holds onto me, she knows I won't suddenly let go. Like duct tape, I am always around here somewhere, because you never know when I might come in handy.