Wouldn’t you know it; Adam woke up in the middle of the night last night. Just who does he think he is? Can you believe the nerve of some babies, filling their parents with false hope like that? He sleeps through the night for a few nights in a row, so I let my guard down, then WHAAA, WHAA, WHAAAAAAAAAA, it’s heads up at 2:30 a.m.
Cheryl got up first. I heard her rustling in the kitchen, and I continued to lie in bed with this vague, hazy notion that something was wrong. Baby, crying, 2:30 a.m. , Cheryl in kitchen, something wrong, can’t, quite, decide, blanket warm, bed good, no, something wrong, must get up,.
I stumbled into the kitchen, doing my best impersonation Dudley Moore (sans alcohol). I mumbled something to Cheryl that I can’t quite recall and went back to bed. I just hope I didn’t say anything to make her mad. She didn’t get mad or laugh at me, so I guess it wasn’t anything too bad. Still, I always find it troubling when I can neither recall my actions or nor why I did them; especially since I don’t drink or do drugs (other than caffeine of course).
Of course the moment I recover the mental acuity to visualize that child of mine, his pudgy little face grinning up at me, all is forgiven. I’m anticipating that moment anytime now.