The R.A. decided to take a pass on sleep last night/this morning. When my husband got home from work at about 2 AM, he heard the gentle crashings of Thomas trains and the R.A. emitting mellow yowls . At that point the goings on were quiet enough that I slept through them and when I say "quiet" I mean on par with the Battle of Bunker Hill as opposed to storming the beaches of Normandy. So "regular" people probably would not be able to sleep through it. My husband climbed into bed clinging to the delusion that the R.A. would go to sleep. It isn't faith or courage that causes one to hold on tightly to hope in the midst of impossible odds. It's sleep deprivation which makes one somewhat nutty. Isn't that the definition of insanity - doing the same thing over and over and expecting a different outcome?
I managed to slumber through until about 3:45 AM. It was at that point that the shrieking started - now things sounded more like the opening scene from Saving Private Ryan. My husband stumbled out of bed and brought the R.A. into our room. As the R.A. ran into the bedroom, his dad told him to get into the bed. The R.A. ran over to my side of the bed and promptly whacked me in the eye. I think it was his way of saying, "Gee, Mommy-Lady, you're not supposed to be there. That's my spot." We hustled the R.A. into the bed. With the R.A. liberated and somewhat quiet, my husband went to use the bathroom facilities. He was quickly joined by the R.A. who yowled and then, despite his father's protests, turned off the bathroom light. The R.A., with a sense of a job well done, climbed back into bed next to me.
Grunting, my husband returned to bed. By this point, after all the early early morning high-jinx, the R.A. had worked up an appetite. He turned to his father and said, "Sowwy, Duddy"(translation: Sorry, Daddy.) Then he said, "Eat chip." We like to think it was the R.A.'s way of saying, "Sorry, old boy, to be a bother, but might I have some chips?" His father tried to finagle some compassion out of the R.A. and bargain for some time, pleading exhaustion. The R.A. wasn't having it and demanded, "Eat chip now!" Again his dad stumbled out of bed. While he was gone, the R.A. quasi-cuddled into me. Next he spent time pinching my arm and tugging on my arm hair. I don't know if the R.A. was torturing me or if he was taking some sort of measurments for my shackles for when the invasion comes. Of course I let him go at it because at least he wasn't running around the room. His father re-appeared with chips and juice and settled back into bed. Unfortunately the R.A. was not pleased with the juice and placed the cup on top of his father's head saying, "Want juice. Want juice now." My husband didn't even bother arguing. Knowing he was beaten, he meekly took the cup and without a sound went down to the kitchen.
The R.A. took this time to stretch his legs and began jumping up and down on the bed. I decided it would be more relaxing to do 5 miles on the elyptical at the gym so got out of bed and began readying myself. After dressing I went into the bathroom to brush my teeth. Almost immediately a tiny hand crept around the door frame toward the light switch. I had already surrendered my nice cozy bed. I would be dog goned if I would give up the light too. "Oh, no you don't!" I bellowed, well hissed because I didn't want to wake up my daughter. We wrangled and I manhandled him out of the bathroom, quickly closing the door. He did not take kindly to this and hurled himself at the door, repeatedly. Luckily I still have a few pounds on him and I was able to keep him out. By the time I finished my morning "toilette" the R.A. was tucked back in the bed - on my side. I swear he smirked at me.
After a "restful-by-comparision" visit to the gym, I schlepped softly up to my room. There I discovered both of my boys were passed out in the bed, in almost identical sleep positions. They looked very sweet and peaceful. It took every ounce of self control not to get a running start and fling myself onto the bed. You're welcome, boys.
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