Thursday, March 12, 2009


While Shannon gets ready for work, she often places a drowsy Mikey in the bed next to me in her spot. All I want is just to sleep for the remaining precious minutes before my alarm goes off.

Invariably, Mikey starts stirring, grunting, and fussing. His little arms are flailing and swatting at invisible bugs. The sleeper is awakening.

This is a crisis. If he wakes, he cries. If he cries, then I'm not sleeping. Everyone knows that the last 30 minutes before the alarm are freaking solid gold. Something must be done.

My first response is often the response of the tired and frustrated parent. I loudly say his name in the most disappointed, whiney voice I have, "Miiiikkkkeeeey, geeeze!" This, of course, is completely ineffective.

The fussing continues its escalation. We could have a baby Chernobyl situation here in seconds. Thinking quickly, I place my hand on his chest and "jiggle" him. Like magic, the squirming stops. The flailing hands fall limp behind his head, posing him in a dozing touchdown pantomime.

The gentle touch and jiggle is usually how you wake someone up. For Mikey, it's the magic sleep button. I guess he's got a wire installed backward somewhere.

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