JJ still wakes up at five in the morning, but in the last few weeks we have trained him to take a bottle and go back to sleep for a few hours. It is amazing what I can accomplish in those few hours... like blogging.
This morning was no exception. He woke up at five.
But, this morning... he woke up really upset. He had a baby nightmare. I could tell because I am his mom. It is a pitiful cry that says, "please, help me Mom, somebody has done me horribly wrong."
It is hard to be a baby.
You suffer so many injustices. It is hard to know exactly which one of those created this nightmare.
Was he dreaming about pulling himself up on the dishwasher door so that he can press it's many light-up buttons, only to have the door mysteriously pop open and hit him on the head?
Was he dreaming about watching Sissy run out the back door, swinging it shut behind her, leaving him on the inside... by himself... well, worse... with MOMMMY!
Was he dreaming about watching Sissy race his new Tonka from one end of the house to the other... desperately trying to catch her and instead she, adding injury to insult, races right by him running his fingers over.
Was he dreaming about watching Daddy eating nice juicy barbecue while he sits in his highchair with fruit and baby-o's.
He could have been dreaming that he was a thirty year old wife and mommy, wishing she could make time stand still so that she could have a little more time with her squishy baby who so defiantly decides to become a one year old boy on Saturday?
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