At 2:30 this morning, Peyton came storming into my room barking orders about the bathroom light and his door and why was there so much light and please shut the bathroom door, but don't turn the light off. This was all before my eyes had opened and my brain had registered the fact that I was being jerked out of my sleep. I sat up to help Peyton with whatever was wrong with the bathroom light as he climbs into the bed with Larry and me. Something snapped.
"Uh uh, Buddy, you are going back to your bed."
See, if it was raining or he was scared from a bad dream, or even if he had come in quietly, barely waking me up, I wouldn't have cared. But he came in the room yelling and then he thought I was going to fix whatever while he settled into sleep. I don't think so.
I escorted him back to his bedroom despite his ever increasing protests and leg thrashing. He started working himself into a frenzy as I repeatedly told him to calm down, there was no need to get so riled up. He got louder and louder until I got very close to him and said "if you wake your brother up . . . "
and there goes Shey.
Apparently, Peyton knew he had gone too far because he calmed down, but Shey was cranking up. I went and got him some juice and got him to lay back down. He fussed for a bit, but then went back to sleep.
I laid back down pretty riled up and finally fell asleep a bit later. Shey then woke up probably an hour later and I kicked Larry to go get him. He, of course, had slept through the first interlude. Shey flailed around for a bit before going to sleep.
I woke up this morning more tired than I was before going to bed. Five years. For five years I haven't gotten more than one good night's sleep in a row.
Three to four days on pain killers, laid up in the bed?
Sounds like a vacation to me.
(See ya on the flip side)