Well, Miles is still waking up in the night, but at least 1) he doesn’t lead off with the banging and screaming, opting instead to attempt to get our attention in a more controlled voice and 2) “the middle of the night” is now more like “really early in the morning.” Four consecutive hours of sleep is better than four constantly interrupted hours. I guess.
This morning (it was 5:20), I was summoned to Miles’s room, where he asked (of course) if Mommy was available. I told him she was not only sleeping, but she was also snoring something fierce. He fell silent for a moment, then said, “I don’t hear her,” and went back to bed. “Here,” he said, patting the spot to his right. “You can sleep here with me.”
Craving whatever calmness I could salvage in these early, sunless hours, I joined him in bed. As he tugged his covers up, he explained, “You need to tell me a story. Because Mommy said you had to do it. And she didn’t tell me a story. She only told me one story. And…and she said you tell me the other story.”
“Miles,” I said flatly, “Mommy did not say any of that.”
Nevertheless, I told him a story about Santa visiting the Paw Patrol. He grinned throughout, then at the end said, “When Santa comes, I want to help him with the presents.”
“I’m not sure he’ll let you do that,” I said.
“Yeah I can,” he replied. “I want to help him put presents in Mommy and Daddy’s stockings.”
“I know, I know,” I said. “You want to make sure he gives me Cocomelon junk.”
Miles laughed. “No!” he admitted. “I want him to give you chocolate.”
“Oh, I like chocolate!”
“Yeah,” Miles said. “And dog food.”