Up

I'm writing this at about 7:00 in the morning, having slept in until an impressive 6:30. After changing Lyla's diaper at 6:00 in anticipation of a feeding, I slugged back into bed. After some moments came a shout from the nursery: "Will you stop sighing? Sheesh!"

I inquired as to what on earth she was talking about.

"Oh poor Dan, back in bed. Sigh. SIGH."

A man has two options in a situation like this: be sensitive or be snarky. As I rose from the bed and padded across the hall, I naturally opted for the latter.

"I believe I have just been on the receiving end of the legendary 'breathe quieter' request. This places me in a new category of husband-martyr, and you in a new category of shrew."

"You're in a new category of tool." Then an epiphany lit up her face. "Are you awake because you're getting presents today?"

"No. I mean...no!" This has been so built up over the years. We're doing Christmas with Julie's family today, and every year I get teased by Julie and her sister Jen because once like 8 years ago I told them I had trouble sleeping on Christmas Eve.

"Go back to bed like a big boy."

"Shut it."

Then she got all sing-songy. "Is Danny going to get a present today? The big one under the tree looks like a firetruck."

I'll get my revenge. When Lyla begins to gain awareness of Christmas, I'll coach her that when she gets too excited to sleep, she should wake up Mom.