Special needs

The days are getting shorter now. I know this because Oliver woke up at 5:30am and it was still dark outside. Like the farmer who knows when it will rain and the ancient mariner who charted his course by the stars, I grope my way through the celestial universe by my children's sleep schedules and other domestic cues. Cranky wife? Full moon's coming. Cranky me? Same.

Considering that Oliver now refuses to sleep when it is light outside, I knew I had a small window of opportunity to get him to go back to sleep. I walked in his room and he was sitting up in the dark. He'll usually take a little water and go back down. He looked at me and demanded firmly, "I want my Crocs on!"

Of course I tried to ignore his request--who sleeps in shoes? It's just not natural--but he would have none of it. It was still dark but I knew dawn was a few minutes away. So I told him to lay down and went off in search of his Crocs. It felt like Mission Impossible: Find the Crocs. Find the Crocs. Put them on his feet. He must not see the dawn or the mission is doomed. He will never sleep if he sees the light.

I found the Crocs, put them on his feet, gave him some water and tucked him in. But there was one problem. Anyone who sleeps in rubber shoes knows that they stick to the sheets. His feet kept grabbing the edges of the sheets and yanking them off his body as he tried to get comfortable. I'm thinking, stay calm. The dawn is coming. I raised the whole sheet up like a tent and let it billow down over him, covering him completely. Not satisfied yet, he protested: "I need a friend! I need a friend!" I grabbed the softest stuffed animal I could feel in the dark and placed it in his arms. With a quick good night I ducked out of the room. The sky brightened minutes later. Mission accomplished. I haven't heard a peep.