Last night I held my daughter.

That day I yelled at her. There were time outs and counts down from ten. She pushed her brother. I punished her. She talked back. I punished her again.

The end of the day couldn’t come soon enough.

Then I watched the evening news.

And when I went to bed, I took her with me.

We have put limits on sleeping with Mommy — you can’t sleep with Mommy every night. You’re a big girl. You need to sleep in your own bed.

But last night, I held my daughter. I pressed my forehead to hers and let her soft, small breaths cool my worried face.

I stroked her hair.

I touched her face.

I held her.