Reagan is hungry

We've had several rough nights around here lately, and I mean rough compared to our usual crappy so you know I'm tired. B is working on one tooth and possibly more. You would think then that I would've been rather perturbed last night when I was woken up yet again. The fact that I felt more pride than anything else likely represents my complete transformation from tired human to some sort of scary mom zombie.

It wasn't a normal wake up where B grunts and thrashes about trying to get comfortable, find a binky, and go back to sleep. And it wasn't a teething wake up where he starts the heartbreaking pain cry before he is even awake. This was a Ronald Reagan wake up. It would appear we have a great communicator on our hands.

Thanks to co-sleeping our sleep cycles are now poetically and annoyingly in sync so I was entering a light stage of dozing just as B was. I was vaguely aware that he was squirming and grunting a tad but he didn't seem upset so I figured he'd put himself back to sleep. Not so. I felt little fat fingers reaching for my face, pinching and poking all around. Then a doughy thumb and forefinger locked themselves on my lower lip (early pincer grasp development?) and shook! Yes, he was smacking me, shaking my lips, and pinching my nose in an attempt to wake me up. When my eyes finally opened, I was not greeted by an unhappy sleepless baby but instead by a big old grin that shone even in the dark. Once he finished beaming with pride over the success of his plan he moved on to beating on my boob and pulling at my shirt. He couldn't have been clearer if he had spoken in full sentences.

Rather than being annoyed that I was awake I was just proud of his budding communication skills. I must be slowly losing my mind.

This is how he says I love you to Katie

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