--it was the worst of times.
(My apologies to Dickens)
WonderBoy cried out from his crib, distraught. As I picked him up, he clutched his blanket and planted his thumb in his mouth. As we began to nurse, his eyelids grew heavy.
We nestled together warmly, and he soon fell asleep. I returned him to his bed, and pulled his little quilt over him. Then I patted him softly--
--which woke him up. He sat up, flashed me a grin, and giggled.
The "best" part? He was incredibly cute. The "worst" part? It was 4:04 a.m.
He doesn't normally sleep with us, but I thought that might do the trick. But he just ended up waking KiSA up by exploring his facial orifices. I wish I could blame it on teething, or illness. But I think he was just being persnickety.
Who on earth said, "sleeping like a baby?"
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