Tsleeping Tsunomaly

Erin had Ainsley and I playing RockPaperScissors at quarter to three this morning, in the throngs of another long night of hourly wakeups. Just wish we knew what would make her comfortable and stay asleep. Or what's going on in that little mind or little body. If she were a satellite, I would know how to take care of her. I'm not trained for this.

Of course, the last time I wrote about her bad nocturns for the worst, she slept nine hours. So this'll be a similar long ranting reverse-psychology e-mail for little missE above my head a room, asleep now for 2hrs 12 minutes.


I've had to shift into new weekend mode; I used to be able to get projects done or go for a bike ride between 1 and 4 while the kids (and Ainsley) took a nap. Now I stay here and count on one (or both) of the kids getting up between 2 and 3, leaving me with some quality time while Ainsley tries in desperation to cling to a couple more hours of sleep (neighborhood kids, car alarms, and ice cream trucks be damned). Still, it's fun hanging out with a happy Erin, now that she's becoming a little person. It's fun (and scary) watching her explore, and I'm reminded of the simple things that amuse the under-one set, like a game of tug tug tug. Or a bathtub filling up (it's all I can do to keep her from throwing her leg over the side to dive in). Or the feel of biscuits in your hair.
Meanwhile, before our very eyes, Ryan is putting more and more words together, emphasizing points with a clenched fist or calling out a list while sticking out individual fingers. And I can't remember if he's done this yet with me (and I'm ashamed I don't know), but he actually started playing pretend with me. Yesterday he asked if I wanted my mail, and I said I had already gotten it, thank you.
"No. Mail from the blue one." From his toy castle.
"Oh. Sure. Is there mail for me?"
"Yes. Here you go."
And he handed me a pretend letter from an empty hand with closed fingers.
I'm not explaining this very well. But it was just the most adorable thing. My son wanted to play with me.
Tonight he even blew a perfect "toot" sound over the mouth of a beer bottle.

He seems to be enjoying the prospect of no longer being a 2-year-old, helped by the fact that he opened more presents this morning (didn't want to overwhelm the lad yesterday). To go with the book theme, we'd asked that his friends only buy him books, in order to replenish his stock and dissuade the continued crapalization of the office. Unfortunately, despite the fact that he got somewhere between 14 and 20 new books, we've now read a Lightning McQueen short story fifty-seven times.