Today started before 5am with a little squirmy boy who wouldn't go back to sleep. At some point this afternoon, too tired for activity, I was lying on the couch reading the New Yorker. Sam had finally given up crawling on my head and was sitting on my shins reading a magazine of his own. Hidden as I was by my propped-up magazine, I allowed my eyes to droop closed. I really wanted to keep drifting off to a sweet sleep, but in order to completely relax, I would have to lower my arms and thus my cover. It was an internal debate for several minutes: enjoy the peace and quiet indefinitely but without being able to "go all the way," or allow myself to drift and risk everything. The pull towards rest was strong, and eventually my arms and magazine dropped. Not 2 seconds passed and I realized it was all over; Sam was on his way up to my head and the peace was broken. Of course.
Sleep-deprivation casts a powerful spell, and my coping mechanism today became a rare mid-afternoon treat: ice cream. We don't even buy ice cream usually, but we had it around this week to celebrate impending home-ownership. Dog-tired and desperate, I pulled out two little bowls and the ice cream scoop. Told Sam to climb into his highchair for some ice cream, and miraculously, he complied at first request. Did mommy just say what I think she said? he was probably thinking, looking hopefully at the unfamiliar carton on the counter. I put the bowl in front of him and he recognized its contents right away. I-beam. No little tip of tongue tastes required; a big spoonful went right into his mouth. For a few minutes things were quiet again...until the bowl was empty. "Mo i-beam?" Of course.