Last night Bean woke up around 2 a.m. I scooped him from his co-sleeper and snuggled him up against me, proffering a boob and assuming we'd all be back to sleep in no time. But five minutes later discovered he was WIDE AWAKE and blowing raspberries on my breast. I thought perhaps putting him in his crib--which is located on the other side of our tiny bedroom (i.e. a whole 1.5 feet away from our bed)---might make him settle down and realize that it was 2 a.m., but nooo, his chortling just got louder. It's amazing how during the day these noises evoke nothing but delight in me, but in the middle of the night, all I wanted to do was bury my head and sleep. Finally we decided to put the co-sleeper out in the living room; only to awaken twenty minutes later to a very sorrowful wail. Once again, I scooped him up and curled around him in bed, and this time he was ready for sleep. His sobs quickly subsiding; turning deep sighs of slumber,
Is he teething? I'm not sure, but the day after a night where sleep has been tattered like this one, seems fragile and tenuous. The sun was bright this morning, pouring in through the windows, and gathering in puddles on the floor. But as I write, I daydream of napping, knowing the minute I drift to sleep he will awaken from his nap to want mama, and to tug on fistfuls of my long brown hair.