On the heels of my post bemoaning my inability to get my child to sleep in his bed, I wanted to write about something that makes me very happy: watching him wake up. It doesn’t matter if it’s morning or if he’s just waking up from a nap. The routine is the same.
Baby C’s breathing begins to change, and he starts to stir. Then he opens his eyes, tentatively at first, then, after a few more blinks, he quietly takes in his surroundings.
And then one of two things happen. He either decides that he’s hungry or otherwise uncomfortable, screws up his little face, and prepares to wail, or his gaze fixes upon something he likes (usually my face), and he unleashes this amazingly broad smile that seems to make its way throughout his now-wiggling, excited little body.
This is something I think he gets from me. Not so much the wailing part, per se (though I’ve had those mornings, too, when the last thing I want to do is smile), but the act of deciding if being awake is a good thing or a not-so-good thing. Fortunately, we get more smiles than tears, and I can only hope this is something that continues indefinitely.