I've lost count of the Roman numerals and am too lazy to look up all the previous posts, but we're in the midst of another sleep pattern altercation here at Merrilly Yours. Lincoln, who since birth has pretty much been an angel to put to bed, is suddenly getting in touch with his inner demon. Last night he was up nearly every hour, wide awake, and calling for "Mommy, Mommy, Mommy!" It didn't help that I had some sort of 24-hour stomach bug, unable to rise out of bed to do much more than vomit. Anyway, in the end, Carey came downstairs with him from about 130-230 in the morning. He barely touched his dinner, so he enjoyed a late night (early morning) snack of yogurt, zucchini bread and a glass of milk. Then he promptly fell asleep until 730.
Greta, meanwhile, is on a "I want to sleep in your bed" kick. We took the gate down in her doorway months ago and she's finally figured out that it offers her roaming privileges. So a couple nights a week she tip-toes into our bedroom and says something vague like, "I can't sleep." Depending on how awake we are, we either carry her back to her room and tuck her in or she snuggles in next to us.
And sometimes Greta's nocturnal wanderings coincide with Lincoln's rough nights and we end up with a party in our bed. I usually embark for the guest room at that point, but one recent morning I got up before they did and snapped a few photos.
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