March 1st, 2011
My son has ESP. Or maybe Spidey Sense. Whatever it is, it’s a little bit disconcerting. He knows when I’m in the house, even when he’s ostensibly upstairs asleep in his crib.
Don’t believe me? Here’s proof:
On nights when I am home, the little bugger inevitably wakes up within two hours of being put down for the night — usually closer to the one hour mark. He stirs and fusses and squirms and eventually squawks until I come and attend to him.
On nights when I am not home? He sleeps for hours at a time.
Last night, Josh and I took advantage of my parents’ presence to catch a movie. I felt quite decadent going out on a Monday night, but also fretted through much of the show as I envisioned my poor parents attempting to comfort the wailing beast that is my son. We blitzed out of the theater the moment the credits started rolling and hurried home. I burst through the door, only to find my parents sitting peacefully in the living room. “Not a peep out of him,” they said.
Within ten minutes of my return, Buggie was up and wanting to be fed.