She did it, folks.

She put herself to bed.

Big woop, right? That's what you're thinking.

But what you don't know is that IT IS a really big deal.

For the past nine years, my eldest, my husband and I, have become uber-comfortable with the time-consuming nighttime routine that included either he or me laying in bed with her,

chatting,

snuggling,

face-tracing,

listening to music on Pandora,

and us pretending to sleep,

for as long as it took to send her off to dreamland peacefully.

But peaceful it always wasn't.

After many years and two more kids who themselves require lengthy bedtime routines, my spouse and I were feeling a bit drained by the

dragged-out,

overplayed,

repetitive,

and slightly nonsensical bedtime charade that gave her a sense of safety but kept us from

our nighttime snacks,

Netflix,

quiet,

occasionally a cocktail,

and time with each other.

We've tried her putting herself to bed before this week, but it always ended in tears.

But not last night, folks. Last night was a breakthrough for her and us.

Who knows if it will stick -- though she and both her dad and I hope it will.

And, if it doesn't, well,

there are worse things in the world.

And, when she's ready, she can always attempt it again.

The really cool thing about being a parent to a child on the brink of tweenhood is the in-beTWEEN.

And in that slightly sour, but still so very sweet in-between,
I will be here if she needs me and extremely proud of her when she doesn’t.