As expected

For all my pontificating about our household sleep patterns in this post, I've been subjected to late-night torture since last Sunday night.

It began in Copper Mountain, where B.'s second night there was one to forget. We couldn't tear outta town fast enough because we knew once in the car, he'd pass out. (And he did.) But just last night, he got up at least four times, prompting me to wake C. for back up. We're definitely not of the bleary-eyed persuasion we once were during the first couple of weeks, but nobody's sleeping like a baby in this house. Not even the baby.

I hope all is well and his little gurgly tummy and tiny toots are to blame (lest you worry, I'm not going to be talking about baby poop and spit up all the time). Another reason could be that it was the "milestone ghost." Rumor has it when babies get near a milestone, their tiny brains work so hard round the clock trying to master their new skill, they can't turn it off. And B. now has some mad rolling skills to show for it.

As I write while my two favorite guys are napping, please help me in wishing Mr. Sandman wears out his welcome here very soon!