6am, Thursday Morning

I woke up this morning to the sound of the bedroom door opening and listened as two sets of feet stepped on the squeaky part of the floor next to the bed. The Bean crawled under the covers beside me and Jules beside him. I still had 50 minutes to sleep before the alarm went off and another 18 minutes of snoozing before I would absolutely have to drag my weary carcass out of bed.

It had been a rough night for the Bean. Around 9:30 he had started sobbing in his bed. Jules was getting ready for sleep and I had some big decisions to make about the rest of the night. Should I settle in and watch some shows or continue to unleash the Force on the Wii? But Jules and I spent the next hour and a half trading off Bean duty. He was bawling uncontrollably and shaking. WonderWife™ showed up and saved the day as usual, somehow getting him to calm down and go back to sleep. We both packed it in and it wasn’t long before I felt the familiar jab of Jules’ finger in my ribs, telling me to shove over because I was snoring in her face.

I had a restless night. I dreamt of busy airports and missed connections, carelessly leaving my backpack containing essentials like my keys, iPod and tickets on a bench in the terminal. Me running around trying to find it before it was too late to catch another plane home. The cause of these visions couldn’t have been clearer if in the dream I had opened a can labeled “stress” and poured it over my head. Though a restless night’s sleep was nothing compared to Jules’, who had to get up every two hours because the Bean was sobbing again or Sprout needed to nurse. By 6am she was wrecked. So when the Bean woke up early, she decided to move him to our room in order to eek out a few precious extra minutes of slumber.

The Bean nestled his curly fro next to my head and for a moment, it was quiet in the room. Soon I hear a faint whisper. “Daddy?” came the little voice. “Daddy? Is it dark outside?”

The voice grew a little bit louder. “Daddy? How come it’s not dark outside? I want to watch TV. I want to watch cars being crushed.”

I gave him no response. Jules “shushed” him a little, which I think only encouraged him. I rolled from my stomach to my back. Being able to see my face was like an open invitation for the Bean to continue his monologue. “Daddy. I talked to [my teacher]. She saw the cars. I had a car and I told her the car rode on his rims.” He was talking about the movie CARS.

I continued my silence.

“Daddy,” he said a little louder. “Daddy!”

“Quiet!” I said in my most stern voice.

The room once again fell silent and I lay there, basking in the power I wielded as “Daddy” of the house. There was still 10 minutes left.

“Daddy?” He whispered.

It was time to get out of bed.