Well, I have another literary treat about my adventures in sleeplessness. I realize I'm entirely too focused on this subject. I wonder what Freud would say about my obsession with my exhaustion. I wonder what he would say about the things my child said to me this morning...

Joe is at Squadron Officer School in Montgomery, Alabama for a month. I'm not allowed to feel too sorry for myself, though, because he's coming home this weekend. Oh, and also, because he's not in a war zone right now. Anyway, Joe tells me that during some sort of ice breaker, he shared with his flight that while his kids caught onto sleeping through the night rather quickly, his dog still hadn't mastered it. My initial reaction was, "You have other kids?"

At 3:30 this morning, Luke started his typical screaming. Something about a hot dog or some such nonsense. Enough with the dreams about the food! Anyway, as I was explaining to Luke that, no, I would not snuggle, because 3:30 is a time that Mommy likes to be in REM sleep, I heard George start to scream. It seems a barrier of a bathroom with two fans running, a storage room, and a linen closet couldn't stifle the noise generated by my firstborn's hot dog calamities.

Long, boring story short, I was just drifting back to sleep around 5:30, when I heard the familiar sound of matchbox cars crashing into one another right outside my bedroom door. I talked Luke into leaving the cars behind and snuggling with me in bed. I warned him that he needed to lay down and be quiet like a mouse.

A nonconformist to the core, Luke started off with a clapping session. He just loves an inappropriate round of applause. Or an inappropriate anything, for that matter. I gave him a little reminder speech and then rolled over. He put his head down next to mine, and here's where the story gets a little risqué. He started talking dirty to me.

"I think George has a pooooopy diaperrrrr!" he said, "I think you should go WIPE his BOTTOM!" and then he burst into giggles.

"LUKE!" I growled, shooting him the evil eye, "Would you like to go back to your room and play quietly?" "No, no, no, no, no, no, no," he sang to me to the tune of "Do-Re-Mi". He laid still for a few minutes, but boredom gave way to practicing his kissy sounds. As soon as that got old, he ripped my duvet away from me. As I was rearranging the covers over myself, he asked me between muffled, throaty giggles, "Hey, Mom...what color shirt are you wearing?" He sounded like a prank caller asking a woman what she's wearing.

Just as I was about to head to the shower to scrub off the ick factor, George woke up again and we started our day.

I would like to meet this other family of Joe's. I'd like to talk to the mother of his other children and pick her brain for ideas. Learn a few of her tricks. See what I'm doing wrong. I'll keep you posted...