Least of all my son. He taught me a hard lesson last night, when he was up from 11pm-4am. My theory is that the skype session with Ben made Bubba realize that maybe his dad really wasn't on an airplane. Maybe his daddy was somewhere in the apartment. Like..in a closet, or under the desk, or anywhere that we were not. It started like this: he got up at 11 and screwed around for a little bit. Then, he started crying. Loud. Worried about waking neighbors, I put him in bed with me, which usually calms him down, and we sleep all night. Except last night, it just made him mad. He wiggled and kicked and rolled and squirmed until he decided he'd had enough and just got out of bed completely. I hauled him back in, and he wiggled back out, and this went on for some time. He kept saying, "daddy" and pointing to the door. When I told him to lie down with me, he'd say, "no." Finally, I had had enough, and I put him back in his crib.
That's when the crying really started. I didn't want to go in there and encourage such behaviour, so I waited until he was quiet. Imagine my surprise/horror to see my little baby hanging off the outside of his crib by his armpits. He couldn't get back in, but he was too scared to drop down. Great. Now that we've crossed that hurdle, there will be no keeping him in that crib anymore. I scooped him up and put him back in bed with me. We talked and kicked (mostly him), and finally fell asleep an hour and a half before my alarm went off.
I can't wait to rock the certification exam later today...
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