Sunday, February 25, 2007
Hey, dude: what are you doing up?
The Estonian for "goodnight" is easy to remember: "hey, dude," intoned with a classic California surfer drawl. The illustration above -- from my language textbook -- has particular relevance to us. Chloe's room in our apartment has a twin bed. Inspired by her first night in a "big-girl" bed at Uncle Geoff and Auntie Charlotte's in London at the end of January, she was very keen to try it when we moved in three weeks ago. The first night went well; she slept her typical 12 hours. But during the next few nights Chloe had a fever, followed by a cold. Uncharacteristically, she began waking several times a night. Since she was so restless, I tried moving the big-girl mattress on the floor, but her sleep remained broken even after her fever subsided.
Then, one day, she pleaded for her tent. We assumed it was for comfort, perhaps due to the transition of the big-girl bed, perhaps to some soreness caused by the four back molars which have been taunting her off-and-on for a year now and which still remain below the gums. She was quite touchy, losing her temper often and for no obvious reason. A few times she said, "my cheeks hurt," so I kept applying numbing gel to her gums. Eventually we discovered that Chloe had a small ear infection, which, in retrospect, she'd been battling the whole time. She was on antibiotics for a week. A follow-up visit this week has shown her to be clear of the infection, which we had hoped based on her much-improved spirits.
Chloe's recent period of recovery was also one of discovery. One morning I awoke in pre-6 am blackness to the very loud sound of her bedroom door opening. My slow rise to consciousness was accompanied by quick footsteps receding into the distance. Pitter-patter pitter patter... "Chloe, bunny, what are you doing?" I called raspily. Pause. Pitter-patter (soft) pitter-patter (loud) pitter-patter (louder) -- cr-e-e-a-k (our door opening). Arms flapping wide and fast. Is she airborne? "Um, um, um, I pulled the zipper on my tent!!" Dancing; leaping. "I pulled the zipper on my tent -- halfway! I get out!"
So begin our mornings now: a loud creak followed by pitter-patters -- usually in blackness, once in a while when the sun's first rays enlighten the frigid air -- almost always not on a morning when she has school! We take turns getting up and reading to her into her room for an hour or so before breakfast. A few days ago she asked to return to her big-girl bed, so we tuck her in nice and tight, with a foam futon on the floor to protect her from inadvertent tumbles.
(at left: one of the rare occasions when we wake her)
For many months now our bedtime ritual has included saying "see you when the sun comes up," and now we really try to emphasize that particular concept. It doesn't actually work, but on the rare occasions when she does wake after sunrise, she knows enough to boast, "the sun came up!" - sac
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