Proof that he's an evil genius...

It's come to our attention that our child, while we love him to no end, is in fact, an evil genius. Apparently it is his mission in life to drive Husband and me entirely out of our minds as quickly as he can so that he'll be free to get onto other business (you know, like taking over the world and various other hobbies).

I might have mentioned a few posts back that we are awesome and did a great job transitioning Ethan to his big boy bed. In fact, we had 7 nights of the best sleep we've had in at least twenty months. There were several consecutive nights of blissful, uninterrupted sleep that made us feel like entirely new people and had us patting ourselves on the back for a job well done.

Last Saturday night we went out to dinner with friends of ours and regaled them with the story of our independent little sleeping super-star. Words like "ready to sleep on his own!" and "doesn't need us in bed with him anymore!" were thrown casually across the table over steamed dumplings and bowls of edamame. We laughed and said thoughtlessly, "Oops! I hope we didn't just jinx ourselves! Ha Ha Ha."

Little did we know Evil Genius was listening quite closely. Here we were, thinking he was just throwing dumpling guts at Chloe and flirting with waitresses. Sneaky little multi-tasker was also taking some serious notes on how to fuck with Mom and Dad. Care to guess?

Yeah, we've not slept since last Saturday night. And you can see how spoiled I've already become by my week of "normal" sleep activity because of course we did sleep, but it was back to the routine of "I'll sleep for a couple hours then you'll come pat my bum, okay?" that we've been rocking for the past year. As one of us takes the nightly bum-patting duties now instead of both of us, there are nights when either Husband or myself can count on some delicious restorative snoozing. But it's not the same as knowing that there are going to be seemingly endless hours of dreamscapes for you from the hours of 11pm-7am. How's that for a big fat, "You think I'm ready to sleep alone and be all independent? Take that, suckers!"

And adding a fabulous dose of insult to injury, this week at Thursday's "love/beat the one you're with" play date, my friend and I were discussing our toddlers' night waking habits. When she mentioned that Lilly will stay awake for upwards of an hour at a time in the middle of the night, I, not yet realizing my evil Einstein was listening to each and every word out of my mouth, foolishly said that we were so lucky that at least all Ethan ever needed to get back to sleep was a quick pat on the tush and that he was usually out again in a matter of a minute or two.

Fast forward to Thursday night, 10pm. Ethan wakes for the first time that night. And stays awake. Until 1am. No crying, no fever, no sickness. Just awake. Just looking around, watching us watch him. Just to prove a point.

So it appears that he hears us and understands us. And loves to prove to us that we are indeed, still his bitches. Well played, little man. Well played.