the post in which I refuse to discuss sleep

Connor is pulling up on everything which is both incredible and incredibly terrifying. He needs very little help, just the support of a grown up hand, a couch arm, a coffee table leg and he is standing up reaching out to knock something off a table or grab for something off limits. He cannot be trusted alone for a second. He is going to need the pack n play to contain his limitless curiosity or he is bound to get into trouble.

He is still very much a baby. Connor loves to be snuggled, but these days he'll happily be put down on the floor to play with an exciting new object like oh, I don't know an Annie's Mac and Cheese box. For a few minutes anyway. He loves his bink, but he's more excited to take it out and put it back in over and over again. He still needs it to fall asleep, but he spits it out after a few minutes. At the same time I look at his ever changing face and see the little boy he will become. I see him understanding his world, I hear him babbling in the back seat, and I watch him as we walk upstairs each night for his big boy bath and it is so obvious that he knows where he is going and what we will be doing and he CANNOT contain his excitement.

Sleep. Yeah. Let's put it this way, I don't want to write about it. Okay. Everyone get that? Good. Still up, still sharing a bed part of the night, but dreams - guys, I totally forgot how nice it was to dream... until I started dreaming about work. 


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