One of the classic ways to break down a person's resolve is through sleep-deprivation. Frat pledges, Gitmo detainees, and new parents all experience this --- with varying degrees of consent and severity (obviously).
But for at least two of the aforementioned groups, there is usually an end in sight. Which leads, as all trials endured and ended do, to a degree of complacency. All of which is a long way of saying I'm about to complain despite the fact that Jane is almost always a good sleeper.
Of late (and I do mean late) sweet Jane has been waking up around 1 am. Which wouldn't be a big deal if she just switched on her light and did Sudoku until falling gently back to sleep.
She does not.
In fact, she yells. Rather loudly. Which means that Samson begins to stir. And there's nothing good that can come of that. Jane can usually be rocked back to sleep, although it almost always entails her sleeping the rest of the night in our bed. [Sidenote: We have a king bed, and Jane is on the small side for her age, but her reach is pretty impressive. Last night she was sleeping perpendicular to Vicki and I and at some point launched a two-footed heel kick into my head worthy of a UFC highlights reel. I digress.]
Anyway, with Jane settled and Samson successfully tucked back in, these early morning disturbances would be nothing more than a bleary-eyed blip in an otherwise peaceful night.
But wait, there's more.
Samson, no slouch in the difficult sleep department, has been waking at 5. And unfortunately, when Sam wakes up, it's almost impossible to get him back to sleep. For one, he wakes up talking, usually in complete sentences and with the purpose of getting a head-start on the day's play. When that fails (and it always fails), he typically pulls the monster card. As in, "Come into my bed. I'm scared. There are monsters." And then starts the crying.
At any other time of the day, we'd be content to call his bluff. But at five, with his sister sleeping just next door, and only another precious hour of sleep left, you can see the conundrum this presents. And so this morning, like yesterday and the day before, I folded myself up into his little bed to keep the monsters at bay and vainly attempt to get him back to sleep. I can report success on only one front.
All of which leads Vicki and I to believe that there is a conspiracy afoot. There's a lot of "chatter" lately on the baby monitors at nap time, and while we haven't intercepted any coded documents yet, Jane gave Samson a knowing smile at dinner yesterday and loudly proclaimed: "Ta-TOOOO."
Probably a trigger word of some sort.
