I believe I've mentioned within the past couple of days, my son, who just over a week ago slept until 10am on his own, no paci, no rocking, just sleeping, reverted, only two days later, to a seemingly endless stream of 6:30 wake-up calls.
:-/
That's all I can say to that.
Therefore, as I listen to the beeping of my husband's alarm, I'm stumbling into Emmett's room, pulling him from the crib as quickly as my weary arms can lift his chunkiness so as to, hopefully, prevent him from waking his sister at this absurd hour, and carrying him back to our room where he enjoys breakfast in bed while we both fall back to sleep.
This has been our routine for the last week.
And while the waking up earlier part is not the best (and the nursing him back to sleep isn't the most "Baby Wise" response), I'll admit there are worse things to wake up to when my eyes flutter open again later in the morning. Seeing his chubby little face smooshed against our mattress, his perfect lips forming that adorable "o" babies get when they're snoozing peacefully, makes me realize once again, every morning, that if being a little sleepy later in the day is because of this sweet face breathing in mine - well, who am I to complain?
That's not even the best part (ok, maybe it's tied for the best part). When he finally does wake up again (Sleeping Beauty typically rises from his second slumber around 10 - yes, jealousy is a factor for some of us in this home), he always wakes up happy - he saves his biggest grins for the person who finds him waking in Mommy and Daddy's bed.
Goodness I love that boy.
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