Luke has decided the last month or so that getting up between 3 and 4am is okay. Oy! He was peacefully sleeping through the night for a week and I thought for sure we were on to something. We had our routine down to a T and were rewarded with 8 or 9 blissful hours of sleep and quiet. And then he switched it up again. Haha joke's on us I guess. I've come to wake just prior to his squeals and yelps, we're in tune to each other's wakefulness. I dread getting out of bed (although John usually gets him and brings him to bed for me) but I also cherish those early morning quiet moments of mother-son bonding. The one thing that can soothe him back to sleepytown is the comfort of me, our bellys touching. More often than not I stare at him quietly nursing away, his tiny hand proudly covering his little heart while the other is in a fist, thumb saluting like a hitch-hiker. He pulls off, stares up at me and smiles a smile that I know is saying "I love you too, thanks for the drink mom, I'll see you in an hour!"
He won't be this little forever, I know I will miss these early mornings...the decadance of a solid nights sleep certainly doesn't trump sweet baby love.
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