At 3:30 in the morning.
It’s been several weeks since you’ve had us up at 3:30am. When we heard you babbling to yourself, the conversation between Daddy and I went something like this:
D: I don’t know what he’s doing up right now.
M: I don’t know.
D: What should we do?
M: I don’t know.
D: He’s not really crying. Do we see if he’ll go back to sleep?
M: I don’t know.
D: He ate a lot when I put him to sleep; I don’t know what he’s doing up right now.
M: I don’t know.
Clearly dumbfounded, we waited for about 20 minutes and realized the last thing you wanted was to fall asleep. And, of course, when I went in there, the little man from China that has inhabited your body was never so happy to see me. You literally bounced with joy. Still wrapped in your Kiddopotamus, you bounced, giggling in your bed. It sure made 4:00am much easier.
So, we went on with the feeding and realized the Chinaman brought poo (and lots of it) and hiccups (yours, not mine). Yes, another one of those feedings…
