Groundhog Day
"Hun. Could you get up and get him. Please?" Another 5 AM wake-up call after a night where Teddy woke up once in the middle of the night. Wait - maybe it was twice. I can't remember. (Although I can remember running into the door frame as I went to get him back to sleep.) Tim doesn't usually answer my request right away, because we are both secretly giving in to that amnesia state of mind where Teddy falls back asleep, both kids sleep past 7 AM, Clinton and Trump drop out of the presidential race, and all is right with the world. But, after a few moments of Teddy squawking - followed by him banging his paci against the crib's bars of oppression - Tim rolls out of bed and trudges towards the door. It's our unspoken contract: I get up with Teddy in the night, and he lets me sleep in for an extra fifteen minutes so I can be a kinder, gentler soul. Fast-forward to 7:30 AM, where Tim is kissing foreheads and running out the door while I'm pouring myse