So after it all–the tears, the all-night feedings, the Ferber appointments–we’ve given in. Night after night for the past two weeks, a little munchkin has been squashed between me and Adam. I wake up with Curious George wedged in my face, feet crammed beneath my legs, and a little arm thrown against my side. Yes, that’s right: while Pie Pie sleeps her way through the night peacefully in her crib, Doodles has returned to the family bed.
Ever since Doodles was sick, he’s been wanting to be in our bed. And he has this little blackmail he holds over us. His screaming. Whereas we let Pie Pie scream when she wakes up to her heart’s content, knowing that Doodles will sleep through it, we don’t have that luxury in reverse. Now that the Pie is sleeping, we guard and protect that sleep with everything we’ve got and the Doodles knows it. So as the cries build, we run in to grab him before he wakes up the sleeping Pie.
I remember when we first got married and I asked Adam, “Why do people need such big beds? I mean, we always sleep crammed together in the middle anyway!” So we bought a lovely double bed. I get it now. I really, really get it. Do they make beds bigger than king sized?
