Monday, October 18, 2010


Lately, Darren will not go to bed for nothing. Actually, the whole thing is pretty much a joke to him. Seriously, I’ve tried every trick in the book, but I swear he’s on to me. It’s like because he turned six months old he thinks he’s a big boy and can set his own bedtime. Negatory.

This all started last Friday when he I picked him up from daycare and discovered he had only had a ten minute nap that morning and had only been napping for fifteen minutes when I got there. (May I also mention he ate like a horse? 2 six ounce bottles, 2 four ounce bottles and three containers of baby food. Geez.) Needless to say, he fell asleep on the way home, woke up for a thirty minutes and then slept till six the next morning. 

Do you think I was fine with that? You betcha!

Now, I don’t know what this kid is on. He fell asleep in my arms forty-five minutes ago so I laid him in his crib. That was his cue. A four ounce bottle and endless rocking later he’s asleep on our bed.

Or so I thought.

I walked in to safely deposit his nuk where I could find it later and decided to check on him.
Imagine my surprise when smoothing back his curls the little rascal is cheesing up at me in the dark.
“Ahh,” he coos and starts furiously moving his arms and legs.

“Seriously Darren?” I roll my eyes because he’s still wearing his goofy grin.

Currently, he is lying beside me trying to steal my pen as I write. It’s an attention-getter and I am steadfast in ignoring him. There is a bunch of scribbles on my paper from where I haven’t been quick enough to move away from his frantically moving limbs.

Oh wait….you have got to be kidding me. Now that I’ve finished writing he is fast asleep. He just wanted to make sure I had something to write about to night. The little rascal.

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