I tucked him into his big boy bed, pulled up the covers and kissed his cheek. I recited all the goodnight parts of Goodnight Moon and wished him sweet dreams. I slipped out of his room and blew him kisses.
He blew a kiss back.
I turned out the hall light and walked into the kitchen.
No, it's not a fantasy.
Do you maybe remember when I wrote a few posts about sleep issues ?
Because I almost didn't.
See, I was standing there in the kitchen, smiling, and saying how awesome it was to just tuck him in and how cool it was that he blew me kiss and that he would stay there all night and not wake me up until 7 and Pshaw! Sleep issues? Whatever!
Then Mr X had to go and like, ruin it all by speaking.
"Yeah, remember when he wouldn't sleep at all?"
"No. What the hell are you talking about?"
"It was only a couple of months ago. Remember, you went a little nuts just because he wasn't sleeping more than like, an hour, at a time?"
And I'm all "Buuuhhh?"
Because there was this protective thing going on in my head that just sort of....... blocked it all out. Like they say that you never really remember the pains of labor (Ha! I bet a man came up with that. I'd like to pull a cannonball out of his penis and see if he remembers the pain of that), only I actually forgot this?
I wonder how many other things he has done that I have simply blocked out in order to get up every morning.
I better be careful with this. This could be really bad when he gets to be a teenager.
"Hey mom, can I borrow the car?"
"Honey? Don't you remember that the last time he borrowed your car he played bumper cars with the guys and nearly totalled it?"
"What the hell are you talking about?"
See what I mean? Bad. Very, very bad.