Somehow my children managed to survive the day on half the amount of sleep on which they typically thrive. While my lovely children tend to sleep a good dozen hours a night - settling in around 7:30 or 8pm and awakening around the same time in the am (ok, Micaiah does; Emmett, lately, has enjoyed rousing his parents at the blessed 6:30 hour - we love it), last night, after enduring a rather hectic (and lengthened) drive to Nenaw & Papaw's home, they were put to bed around 9:30. An hour later, they seemed to be under the impression that this was a slumber party, as I entered the room to see Micaiah out of bed and Emmett laying on his belly giggling at her. Really? How is a Mom supposed to scold in this moment?
So, we didn't. We let the laughing duo return to the lower level to spend some time with extended family. Micaiah didn't even make it to bed until midnight. Surely, we thought, they will finally let us sleep in a little.
You think we'd know better by now.
Instead, in the wee dawn hours, sunlight barely radiating the room, I hear the rustle of a blanket and see a head bobbing at the foot of the bed. I look at the time. 6:36am. Sigh.
In case you couldn't guess, we did, in fact, have quite the cranky toddler on our hands for a little while until, after breakfast, she was coaxed into a mini-morning-nap. And, yet, even after only an extra 45 minutes or so of sleep, our daughter survived the day.
I just don't know where this energy comes from. It's sure not a learned behavior, I'll tell you that.