Thankyou, punkin, for somehow knowing at which point your parents were about to break.
The very night after your mother lay in my arms, ready to cry at your proclivity to wake three times in the night, at midnight, 3am and 5am, you gave us a gift that will be likely one of the most wonderous you give us in these first few years of your life, handmade cards notwithstanding.
Last night, punkin, even before the onset of TopModel at 8:30, you went meekly to your bed, and slept the sleep of the just and the righteous and beautiful babies until 6:30 this morning.
This, punkling, was the greatest thing that you could have done for your mum and I. We were getting ready to investigate any and all methods of ameliorating your needs in this regard, including but not limited to bringing you in to sleep with us. Of course, this was a Last Resort, and it is with joy that I tell you, an unneccesary one. I don't know the reason for your sudden shift back to a full night's sleep, but I can tell you that it's directly linked to how I feel today.
And how I feel today is, without resorting to too much in the region of extraneous hyperbole, bulletproof.
I bounded from my bed this morning, ready to take on the world. Ready to face whatever fate and the furies wanted to throw at me. Then I got to work, but that's a whole nother story.
Speaking of stories. I need to talk to you about books. I know that your current usage for books, particularly "Babar Goes To The Doctor", consists of ascertaining their 'mouth feel', and feel it's important to let you know that they have other uses. What those uses are can wait, but this is just a heads-up.
Love you.
*Samuel Taylor Coleridge
1 comment:
Isn't sleep wonderful?
Sometimes I will be at my breaking point, and that's when they sleep through. It's lovely. Too bad they take us all the way to the breaking point though!
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