One of the joys of pregnancy is that people speak to you in cliches. Second only to the comment "Your life is really going to change" is the promise that "Now you'll understand unconditional love." And as much as I hate being spoken to in cliches, I must admit it's true that children teach you a thing or two about unconditional love.

Take this morning. 4:30 am, to be exact. I was summoned to Luke's bedroom by ear-piercing screams. He's having a nightmare! I thought to myself. I sprung out of bed and booked it to his room. I found my precious toddler in his bed, wide awake, drinking water. The reason I'd been called? He wanted to accuse me of spilling water in his bed. Approximately three drops, as a matter of fact. I totally empathized with him, because if there's anything I can't imagine working around as a 32-pound human being in a double bed, it's three drops of water. Faced with the same circumstances, I would want a scapegoat, too. I assured him I didn't commit such a vile offense, and I tucked him back in. "I love you," I said, and then I made my way out the door. "I don't love you anymore," he called after me. "I'm sorry you feel that way," I said, "I will always love you no matter what. I know you're angry because you have water in your bed. Just try to go back to sleep now."

I shook it off and went back to bed.

At 5:00, more screaming ensued. I headed to his room, a little slower this time, and asked what was the matter. "YOU SPILLED WATER IN MY BED!!!" he screamed. Hell hath no fury like a woman who hasn't had proper beauty rest in over three years. "Shut your mouth and go to sleep," I warned him, "I don't want to hear from you again until the sun comes up. You will not watch any cartoons tomorrow, nor will you get to have Froot Loops for breakfast." He whined, "I can't shut my mouth! I can't shut my mouth!" and then hung his mouth open to further illustrate his point. I gave him my meanest warning look and then stormed off and went back to bed.

As I laid there, heart pounding, I fantasized about all the things I could buy myself by blowing his college fund.

I thought about this:

And these:

And some of this:

And going here:

Somewhere between imagining myself recovering from my abdominoplasty and shopping for rugs in Turkey, I fell asleep. When we woke up for the day, we resumed normal activities--smiling, kissing, hugging, laughing. I was truly over my anger, and I fell in love with my little boy all over again. Thoughts of throwing around his college money went into the black hole in my brain. Love truly is unconditional.

We went downstairs, and while Luke watched, I gave George a big handful of Froot Loops (the breakfast of baby champions). Love may be unconditional, but breakfast is an absolute rat race.