I have a distinct memory from when I was a wee little one of how much I enjoyed being carried into bed from the car when I fell asleep on long drives at night. There was something about it that I liked so much that some times I would fake it. I would lie perfectly still with my eyes closed, and wait for strong arms to carry me into a warm bed.
I remember that it felt so nice, the protection, the sense of being taken care of. It made such an impression on me that I can still remember it, even though I could not have been more than four or five at the time. It seems now an impossibly distant past. Yet tonight, I thought I caught Anna pulling the same stunt on me. I think she was, but I couldn't tell for sure.
It was just a feeling and it passed through me like a shiver. The feeling of being carried up and out of the car, through the doorway, up the steps, blind and protected, so long ago. Some times being a parent is really cool.