The Tiny Space

It was a tiny space between the bed and the bookshelf in the kids' room. It was a space I never considered to be dangerous. Ana could get on and off her sister's "Big Girl Bed" independently. And recently, she had taken a liking to spending her cooling down period (before her nap) lying on top of Sissy's bed, looking through her books and practicing the balance of her head on a pillow.
"Auugh" I heard her offer up from behind the closed door.
"She must be nearly ready to fall asleep," I thought, as I scrubbed the kitchen counters,"I'll be sure to check on her in a few minutes."
"Auugh, ughh, auughhck!" Ana shrieked from the bedroom.
Abandoning my sponge, I trotted toward the room to see what was the matter.
And there she was, wedged in that tiny space between the bed and the bookshelf, perfectly suspended in mid-air by her little tummy squeezed between two pieces of furniture.

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