Sleep

I remember when we used to get up, and you’d sit in your bouncer, and shake your rattle. I could watch a show, or read, or write something, or get some work done, or anything I wanted. Now you crawl, and need to be stimulated by everything and anything or else. Like some of the people I’ve known. You’re no longer content sitting there while we do as we please with the extra hours; a luxury long gone now.

I sit here typing while I make a feeble attempt at seeing if you’ll sleep, but instead of simply sounding out that you are displeased, you get up, shake things, bang on the floor, scream your head off and ensure nobody within a mile radius is sleeping, right along with you.

It’s not bad that is, to say you’re just growing up. Selfishly I miss those free hours. And selfishly I await the days when you can speak, instead of merely cry at everything. Soon I guess.

You don’t sleep as well as you used to, just like me. Not that it’s any sign of relation, many people don’t sleep well. But you used to, and that’s what I miss.

You’re silent now, I think you’ve given in.