Kids have an evil sixth sense. This is not promoted on parental literature because, let’s face it, it’s not the selling point. The selling point is the cute mini-you running around all dressed up and laughing and smiling and blowing you kisses. Saying “wuv you.” Running at you repeating, “big hug” and then throwing their arms around you.
Those are all fabulous. But I’m not a fan of the evil sixth sense. They KNOW the ONE morning you need, and have planned for, extra rest and they blow it for you! Let’s take this morning for example. I had boot camp and 4:30 am wake up calls Monday through Thursday. My very kind husband volunteered to take this morning til the nanny arrived so I could sleep in a bit. HOWEVER, the baby sensed this (one of them is bound to when you have triplets). He awoke at 4:50 a.m. wailing for mommy. Yet Bray did not let this deter him from helping me get sleep. So he went and LAID on the nursery room floor by the baby’s crib to console him so I could sleep. A half hour later, still inconsolable, I went in to the nursery and said, let’s just bring him in our room to sleep. Because no way is he going to stay up, he’ll never make it, he’ll be exhausted. But stay up he did. And talk about ducks and cows and daddy and hugs, all very fun and sweet, IF IT WERE LIGHT OUTSIDE! So Bray got up, showered and got ready, at 6 a.m., and took the little man (soon followed by his siblings, unbelievable) out to play and eat breakfast while allowing me to get an extra hour of sleep until 7:15. What goodness. But we’re both still pretty pooped.
In other, non-sleep deprived, news, here’s the week’s 27 month old recap: little lady took off her p.j.s and then her diaper in her crib and fell asleep buck naked in her bed until we discovered her in such condition an hour later; the eldest, after pulling the little lady’s hair, said “time out” and took my hand and helped me walk him into time-out, additionally he can now climb out of the crib even with the mattress on the floor and while wearing socks (ugh!); the baby has picked up new dance moves and he and his sister love showing them off to their favorite songs (the eldest isn’t so much a dancer); they all want to dump their little potties into the “bigh” potty once finished, completely solo, which as you might imagine can lead to any number of harrowing near misses with potty-fallout.
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