The Boy woke up at 3:30 this morning. (No, that’s not the part I want to remember.) I sang to him, cuddled him, tried to coax him back to sleep… Nothing. For half an hour, I tried to get him to fall back to sleep. Finally, at 4am, he left his room (on his own, throwing open the door in such a dramatic fashion that he could have only picked up from me) and made a beeline for the kitchen where he let me know, in no uncertain terms, that he was hungry for breakfast.
At 4:30, I plucked him (and his very full tummy – he ate almost an entire peach and a whole lot of Kix) out of his high chair and carried him back to my bed with whispered (but forceful) instruction not to wake Daddy. Thankfully, he obliged. I put on the “Sleep” episode of Yo Gabba Gabba!, and he was asleep within 15 minutes.
This is the part I want to remember:
He readjusted himself so that his head was on my shoulder and his body was snuggled in the crook of my arm. His pacifier fell out of his mouth (he only gets his pacifier when it’s time for sleep), and then he startedlaughing. I peered down at his sweet little face, and there he was, fast asleep with a great big grin on his face. He chuckled again, then was silent.
Oh, sometimes I wish I could peer into his thoughts and know what thinking. This morning, I desperately wanted to know what he was dreaming about that made him laugh out loud!