It is pertinent that, as a parent, I peek in on the kids while they're sleeping.
You might assume that's for practical purposes: To check on them and make sure they're breathing or to make sure they haven't entangled themselves in bedding or haven't caught on fire (parenthetical aside: why do all these PJs have that declaration on the inside that says, "Wear snug fitting. Not flame resistant."?! Do many kids spontaneously burst into flames while sleeping? This has long been a plaguing parenting question of mine).
Or, you might assume it's for sentimental reasons, like to give them a gentle mom-kiss goodnight while they slumber silently.
And those are good assumptions, and true to a point, but my principle reason for the nightly peek-in, is to remind myself of how cute they are and how much I love them.
Because when they're awake, and one is standing on top of the kitchen counter trying to reach forbidden candy and the other is biting the dog, it's kinda hard to remember why I steered life down this road of madness.
But, when I peek-in, I suddenly have sleeping-child-induced-amnesia: What entire roll of toilet paper that got unspooled and flushed this morning thus causing the toilet to overflow and turn the master bathroom into Lake Superior? Pfffftttt, no biggie! Look at those itty-bitty toes!
All sleeping children melt a heart: I bet even terrorists sigh and say, "Awwww! Wook at the cutie-wootie!" at the sight of such sleeping babes. It is an evolutionary advantage I'm sure. If we didn't all do the peek-in and see sights such as this at nap time or at the end of the day --
-- there'd probably be a lot more kids left to be raised by wolves.