I am not a morning person. Neither is Dave. The past two mornings Coen has woken up at a deadly 6:00am. When this happen Dave and I usually have a conversation that goes something like this.

Coen: sounds of binkies being thrown across the room. “Maaaaammmaaaa!”

Dave: “Uuugghhhhhhhhh. What is the deal?”

Coen: “Moooommy!”

Me: pretend to be sleeping through it. Sometimes I think that if I don’t actually open my eyes or make any kind of movement I will be invisible, kind of like the prey of a Tyrannosaurus Rex.

Dave: silence, (I think he’s on to my technique)

Me or Dave: “I got up with him last time.” (This could either be the truth or a total lie)

Coen:  “Mooooooom!”

Me or Dave: “Whatever…you got to sleep in twice in a row on yada yada days.”

Whoever decides to be the martyr: fake get up (What is this, you ask? This is when you make the effort to at least sit halfway up but then lay back down and think up a really good reason that you should be the one to sleep in) – It’s my birthday month, I’ve been working really hard, I just installed the fence, I breastfed all night long for the first year – all come to mind. A slight nudge usually proceeds this.

Coen: giving up on mommy “Daaaady! Come here!”

Whoever lost that battle: “Fiiiiiiine.” Get up. Go into Coen’s room. Then proceed to be just loud enough that the person sleeping can’t really fall back asleep or (my personal fav) faux niceties like bringing in breakfast, of course making Coen do it so you really couldn’t say no.

Here’s wishing Coen starts sleeping in real soon.


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