Fact: Jack does not kick in his sleep. His movements are far more subtle and insidious. So we've already given up on trying to get him to go back to his bed once he wakes up and wanders into our bed. We did a few nights of getting up and walking him back in there. Most nights Nipper Knapp just ended up falling asleep with him, the two of them smashed together in Jack's tiny twin. Other nights there were tears, and sometimes we were strong, but mostly, we caved. We are tired! It was late! He's only going to be little once! Someday we'll wish he was small enough to cuddle between us.
Ok, so fine. Most nights it's fine. He wanders in anywhere between midnight and 3am. Sometimes he comes in so quietly we don't notice he's there until morning. Lately though, he's been coming in and announcing something in full voice. "I have to pee" or "I already peed and I'm all wet" or "Is TODAY a school day?"
I try to shush him, and get him into the bed as quickly as possible, straddling the drift between sleep and awake. But some nights it's no contest. As soon as I hear his door open, I'm up. I lay there willing myself back to whatever dream I was in. Last night, I dreamt that Smacksy was married to Richard Dreyfuss. They lived in a little bungalow with a picket fence, and as she was introducing me to him, I was trying to remember if I had actually worked with him, or if I had just put working with him on my resume to pad it up a little. I wondered this aloud. Because EVERYONE uses Richard Dreyfuss as a boost on their acting resume. The rest of the dream had something to do with wiping a baby's bottom while changing a diaper and NEVER being able to finish. Wipe after wipe after wipe. I'm not well.
The worst part is, the kid likes to make contact. He also doesn't like to sleep under blankets. So within minutes he is sideways in the bed, above the blankets. The nights when his bowling ball head is smashing into mine, I can usually manage to stick a pillow between us and get on with it. But the nights, Nipper Knapp get's the noodle and I get the tootsies are murder. He does the little thing with his toe. It's like he's doing some kind of stretch. Little evil circles with that toe. Sometimes it's on my leg, sometimes my arm, sometimes it hits in the middle of my back. Tiny little erratic toe circles of doom. There is no escape. The circles work through any pillow barrier. The further I move away, the more he scooches closer, like one of those giant drills they used to make the chunnel.
Last night I ended up sleeping half on the throw pillows that I put on the floor when we go to bed, I was so far off the bed. I love my child, but I just want him to know now, when he's 13, and morose, and wants to sleep until noon, it's ON. Jack Knapp, your loving mother has 10 years to plan her revenge, and it will be sweet served cold. Love you baby.