So here's the deal. Last night the wee lad exercised the pipes at 3:00AM. This after a week of not going to sleep in what some people would refer to as "smoothly".
Oh, and Autumn was already in our bed. At 1:00AM, I rolled over to see her staring at me from the floor.
"I'm scared", she whispered, presumably so she didn't wake up mommy.
"A witch just ate me, spat me out, and might eat me again." She said. "In my dream" she added, helpfully, because maybe I wasn't sure.
And really, who is sure at 1:00AM.
So there we are, with the princess in the bed, when the wee lad Gavin decided to start the mommy chant.
It sort of goes on like that for a bit. It's not really him crying, it's him yelling for mommy. Unlike Autumn, who takes pains to not wake her up, but wakes me up, Gavin just lets 'er rip.
"Mama. Mommy. Maaaaaaaaaaaaaaammmmmmmmmmmaaaaaaaaaaa!"
We really shouldn't be here. We're not new at this. And yet, somehow, we're back to Gavin being up every night. He's doing this when we put him to bed, and doing it to the point where he cries so much he ends up doing that little toddler coughing fit-thing that is heart breaking.
It sounds like he's choking, which is hard to ignore. So one of us goes in, hugs him to calm him down, and implants the cause and effect of coughing equals hug.
This has been a tough week. And will get tougher since I'm out late tonight.