Lycanthropy is the only possible explanation for the high jinks that have been going on around here. Keeghan, the boy who will wake up, when placed in his crib, just long enough to smile and say “bed!” Has been staying up to howl at the moon at night. He wakes up 45 minutes after bed time for a burp-a-thon (don’t ask, but there’s a reason his doting Rama calls him “the toxic waste dump,” and yes, I’ve TRIED to burp him before he goes down) and then… it’s an endurance sport trying to get him back to bed. Why anyone who loves sleep this much WANTS to stall I do not understand.

My personal favorite delaying tactic is when he tries to summon a co-conspirator. “Da-da?” he’ll say, then sneak a look at Mean Mommy’s Boring and Totally Genuine Sleepy Face. Then he looks toward the door. Again, louder, “Da-da?” When that doesn’t produce results, another peek at me and then, “Brudder?” Look at the door again. “Da-da?” And finally, “Da-da? Brudder? Dadabrudderdadabrudderdadabrudderdada? DA-DA! AH-WAH-WAH!” Followed by more door watching and his signature move, the Yawn That Would Crack Your Face In Half With Simultaneous Head Thrash. That one is DANGEROUS. Stay out of its way.

Next we’ll have some more scrutiny of Boring Sleepy Mommy and some playing the slats of the crib like the world’s most boring xylophone. Periodically he assumes his favorite sleep position just long enough to get my hopes up before trying to stand up, or checking to see if he can reach my leg through the side of the crib, or singing a little song , or playing “Ah-wah-wah” all by himself. It’s almost bedtime. Wish me luck.

(Yeah, I slipped that standing up thing in there. It’s his new hobby. I keep telling him to STOP IT YOU DO NOT NEED TO WALK FOR FIVE MORE MONTHS.)