Amid all of her talking and near-walking, L took a wonderful step back in time today, presenting me with a gift that hearkened back to the era when she was three months old and still fit between my shoulder and my bellybutton.

To wit: She fell asleep on my chest while we sat on the couch.

The setting was remarkably ordinary. Powergirl was napping upstairs. L and I were playing with the baby’s bath toys (yes, she even likes playing with them outside of the bath) on the couch. The Yankees game was on in the background.

At some point, probably while Wally the Walrus was chatting with Ollie the Octopus (think I have an overactive imagination?), the baby rubbed her eyes, wiggled her way over to my chest and squeezed her tiny head into the crook of my neck.

Then she clutched the collar of my T-shirt, jabbed her knee into my ribs, and fell asleep within seconds.

As she clung there breathing softly into me, I started thinking about the last time she did such a thing voluntarily (read: without me trying desperately to get her to fall asleep). The answer: July 2009, when L was no more than three months old, and still needed to sleep once every two hours (now we’re lucky if she sleeps for a total of two hours per day).

We stayed locked in this impromptu embrace for about 25 minutes. I was afraid to move, lest I awaken her, so I sat and gently caressed her little back. Every moment, I reminded myself to soak up how complete and loved the little koala made me feel.

To some extent, I felt I had to; I know that as our L learns words and starts walking and eventually asks for Fun-Dip and Taylor Swift records, today’s wonderful surprise may never happen again.