Mali Zub was sick again last week, and this one was quite a doozy. A flu on top of a cold made everything all the more exciting; each new moment, a new adventure. Sleep, a distant memory. My brain cells--an old, forgotten friend.
Will they ever grow back, I wonder. Or am I destined to live the rest of my life as a drooling idiot, unable to complete sentences and remember phrases of old....
See, this is how they get you, those little babies. Wait until they've got you wrapped around their teeny little fingers, then become Awake, morph into Monsters from the Deep, crazy little foot-high zombies that somehow still charm the hell out of you during daylight hours.
And every once in a while, just to mix things up, they pull these little surprise sleepless festivals, just to see if you're paying attention. Like a couple of weeks ago, when Mali Zub, for no apparent reason, decided he was done sleeping. Oh, yeah. Just wasn't in the mood anymore. Which meant that Kimo and I were done, too, of course. And this went on for three weeks. Three glorious weeks of watching our once-sweet baby writhe and play and toss and back-flip and cry and babble and raise his fists to the sky in his attempt to overthrow The Oppressor.
And you know what? It worked. Mali Zub won. At the end of those three weeks, he started sleeping again. Let's hope we get a similar reprieve soon.