Broken Things

The bubble has burst. Three ay em comes so damn early some days, ya know? But, like I said to Nik: At least I could sleep through it. Honey. Seriously, my husband is so incredible. Not only did he let me pretend that I didn't hear the boy but he brought me coffee in bed at seven, having given up any thoughts of going back to sleep himself hours before.

But before we get discouraged (easy for me, having slept till seven) we'll hope this is an anomaly in our new solid sleeping habit. We'll mark it on the calendar and note that a) it is almost a full moon, b) it is raining today, which means that the barometric pressure was changing in the night and c) Nik took the boys for a walk that turned into a run in the hour before bedtime. Even after all these years we still try to find some thing that happened at point A that took us to point B. My guess is that we'll never find that one thing but at least it helps us feel like we are doing something.

On another note, and because I don't talk about Sami near enough on these pages, I just have to say that four is a great age. I utterly delight in that boy and the little person I see him becoming. I have momentary worries about him. He has to play second fiddle in so many ways around our house but he handles it with a grace that is far beyond his years. For instance, yesterday Oliver accidentally destroyed a lego mobile that Sami had spent a good deal of time building. I held my breath as I watched Sami  take it all in before cheerfully saying: "Oh that's OK. I can build it again. I'm really good a figuring things out and building things."  And just like that Sami lifts me and eases my worries.