My children are attempting to see how many consecutive nights one or both of them can wake me up. I'm not sure what the count is up to at this point, but I know I'm not winning.
The past two nights have been tough. Noodle finally persuaded me that if she insists that she needs to be held, she probably is actually in discomfort. So I've held her while dozing on the couch. This is not actually the same as sleep. Sleep gives you a glorious feeling of restedness. Or some similar word I used to know before I was so sleep deprived that I can only manage to whimper when my husband cracks jokes.
Today I brought the kids in to the doctor on a 'just in case' visit. They, and I, have a minor cold, to which I was attributing Noodle's unhappiness. Of course tomorrow we're getting on a plane, so we hit the doctor to make sure they don't have ear infections. (We'll let it remain a mystery whether I have one.)
Sitting and chatting with the doctor, I look down and right in front of my eyes, springs up Noodle's first tooth. I swear. Except I'm sleep deprived and seriously unreliable.
No ear infections. But at least one more burgeoning tooth in there.
Q is beside himself with excitement about the plane trip. He wanted to help me pack, which he did by sitting on the bed and looking at his transportation book and discussing different types of planes and other air transport. He would like to take a plane that lands on a river next time. We also discussed, briefly, tickets, which I realized are a fairly alien concept to a three year old.
He's now snuggled into bed, with visions of airplanes whizzing through his head. May we all rest well. Tomorrow will definitely be another big adventure.