When Jack wakes up every morning, it’s a new day. No matter how much crying or whining he does the night before, he usually wakes up bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, and tackles the morning routine (tea, morning show, breakfast, get dressed, off to bus stop) with a smile. He rarely remembers whatever was bothering him the night before.
Lately, for Peter, 9-11 hours of sleep is but a pause button for his brain. Witness the last two evenings:
Bedtime #1: Very late (9p) due to a long nap from 2-4p. Peter still doesn’t want to go to bed; he insists that he needs to go back downstairs and “play with his guys.” Finally, after crying and yelling, and a sippy cup of milk, he’s off to dreamland.
Morning #1: At 6am (way early for him) Peter comes into our room, and says, “Daddy — you open da gate so I kin go downstairs and pway wiff my guys?”
Bedtime #2: Normal bedtime (7:15ish), though Peter is upset because, after repeatedly denying he wanted to watch a show with Jack so he could play on pbskids.org instead, now wants to watch a show (“Buh I changed my mind!”). A sippy cup of milk breaks through the sobbing and he’s comfortably wrapped in his covers. He asks me to find one of his favorite cuddly animals, a stuffed cow named Cow, but he falls asleep while I’m looking for it.
Morning #2: Peter slips into our room at 6:30 and comes to my side of the bed. Does he say “Good morning?” or “Hi, Daddy!” or “You ‘wake, Daddy?” Nope! He asks, “Daddy — did you find Cow?”