I know that one isn’t ever supposed to blog this stuff. It angers all the wrong powers that be. But really, what happened this weekend was so monumental that I really can’t keep it to myself.
This weekend Little L slept.
I mean, doy she slept. She often sleeps. But she rarely sleeps all. night. long.
The last two nights she went to bed (without a fuss) at 7:30 and woke up at 8.
This is the kid who is usually up by 6:45. And sometimes at 5 before that. And sometimes 11, or 12, or maybe 1 too, you know, just for good measure.
But this weekend there were no night wakings. None. And she woke up after C both mornings and after me on Saturday! That’s just unheard of.
And to what do we attribute this amazing streak of sleep filled nights?
Uh, well, we have no clue.
We were at the beach for the weekend, so it’s possible that the sound of the ocean lulled her, but every other night that we’ve spent there has been a sleep disaster that usually ended with her in our bed.
Both days were action packed and fun and ended with a hearty meal, some serious cuddling, and our usual evening routine. Like every other day in our lives.
She had the same naps she always does. The same stuffed animals. The same milk. The same pacifiers. Same. Same. Same. And same.
We’re back home now and I have no delusions that the streak will continue. Troubled sleepers don’t turn over a new leaf over night. In fact, just to prove that my fears were founded, Little L had a hard time settling down tonight and I have no doubt she’ll be up sooner rather than later.
That’s OK though. I had two blissful nights of uninterrupted sleep, which were great while they lasted.