The other day, Super A. looked out the front window at dusk, and leaned his golden head against the glass, slick with rain on the other side.
"What a beautiful night," he said, "even though it's raining. It's beautiful. And soon it will be time to get in my bed!"
"You like to sleep, don't you, buddy?" I asked.
"Oh, yes," he said. "Sleeping is nice!"
As I turned away, I shook my head in amazement. Seven years ago, I never would have believed A. would enthuse about the wonders of going to sleep.
A. was the baby who never slept. EVER. He did not nap for more than 20 minutes at a time. He ate every hour, all night long. If Hubby was working the evening shift, he would insist on staying up and waiting for him until midnight, when I had to work at 5 a.m. His first four years of life, he never slept the night. Ever.
Now, he sleeps from 8 p.m. to 7 a.m., like clockwork every night. He loves to go to bed, and only ever stays up because I. is keeping him awake.
My friend Gail often told me "this too shall pass" during those sleepless nights. I hardly believed her. All I could imagine was endless years of sleep deprivation. And now, A. is a dream to put to bed. He snuggles into his covers after book and kiss, and drifts off to dreamland.
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