WORDLESS WEDNESDAY: SLEEPING BEAUTY

Oh, boy. That's my boy.

WORD-ONLY WEDNESDAY: EYE TWITCH

For three days straight, my LEFT EYE has been twitching. Though my instinct is to spiral into a state of hypochondria and declare the worst, I know better.... for this twitch, this incessant, annoying, want-to-punch-my-own-eye-out feeling is NOT a first for me. In fact, last year, I'm pretty sure I visited an internist, an ENT, an allergist, and an optometrist (oh, and for shits and giggles I suppose I should mention the neurologist too) to rule out "the worst...."

Well, my friends. Thanks to the intra-web, I don't need to visit these doctors again. Every possible reason for this annoying eye twitch has been listed below..... For twenty cents, I'll let you figure out which (every single) one I have... Wink, wink. (With the right eye of course). ;-)

Why Does My Eye Twitch?

Stress: While we're all under stress at times, our bodies react in different ways. Eye twitching can be one sign of stress, especially when it is related to vision problems such as eye strain(see below). Reducing the cause of the stress can help make the twitching stop.

Tiredness: A lack of sleep, whether because of stress or some other reason, can trigger eyelid spasms. Catching up on your sleep can help.

Eyestrain: Vision-related stress can occur if, for instance, you need glasses or a change of glasses. Your eyes may be working too hard, triggering eyelid twitching. Computer eye strain from computer use is also a very common cause of vision-related stress.

If your eyelid twitching is persistent and very annoying (like the problem experienced by my patient's wife), you should have an eye exam, because you may need vision correction. If you spend a lot of time on the computer, you also should consider talking to your eye doctor about special computer eyeglasses.

Caffeine and alcohol: Many experts believe that too much caffeine and/or alcohol can trigger eye twitches. If your caffeine (coffee, tea, soda pop, etc.) and/or alcohol intake has increased, cutting back is worth a try.

Nutritional imbalances: Some reports indicate a lack of certain nutritional substances, such as magnesium, can trigger eyelid spasms. Although these reports lack scientific evidence, I can't rule this out as a possible cause of eyelid twitching. If you suspect a nutritional deficiency may be affecting you, however, I suggest talking this over with your family doctor for expert advice rather than randomly buying over-the-counter nutritional products.

Dry eyes: More than half the older population experiencesdry eyes, due to aging. Dry eyes also are very common for people who use computers, take certain medications (antihistamines, antidepressants, etc.), wear contact lenses and consume caffeine and/or alcohol. If you are tired and under stress, you also may develop dry eye. It's best to see your eye doctor for a dry eye evaluation, because many treatments are now available.

Allergies: People with eye allergies can have itching, swelling and watery eyes. When eyes are rubbed, this releases histamine into the lid tissues and the tears. This is significant, because some evidence indicates that histamine can cause eyelid twitching.

BRIBERY: DON'T SHOOT IT 'TIL YOU TRY IT

What do you do when your kid won't sleep? No, I mean WON'T. SLEEP. And I don't mean a 5 month old who sleeps for 5 hours at a time and wakes up to feed, for the occasional 2 am or 6am feed. (Please, cry me a river). No. I mean, a 3 1/2 year old who can walk, talk and "Beautiful Mind," him AND you out of any sleeping scenario.

What. Do. You. Do.?

Traditional sleep training doesn't work because he doesn't stay put. As stated, said child will waltz right out of room, plop down with me on the couch and ask me what song they're singing on American Idol.

Crying it out doesn't work because, in addition to having neighbors, words have replaced tears. On any given night, at any point during the night, I hear, "Mommmmmmmmmmmmy, I neeeeeeeeeeeeed you." Or "Moooooommmmmmmmmy, I had a bad dream." Or "Mommmmmmmmmmmy, why are windows square?"

Yes. At any given point during the night, my son can go from a totally typical, desperate, scared place to a full fledged philosophical discussion.

"Mommy, you know what. would. be. so coooo-uhhhl??"

"Whaaat," I whisper, tucking him back in... at 3am... after changing his pull up he demanded needed changing.

"Iiiiiiiiif. Um, um, um,"

"Shhhh. Yes. Shh.... It's sleepy time."

"Noooooooo mommy, no. I have a ca-westch-un."

"What???"

"How. do. people. maaaaaaaaake.... houses?"

Think about that question.... Just think about it... At 3 am....

ANYWAY, the point that I'm getting at here, is that I need a miracle and am feeling desperate. Without question, it's time to pull out the big guns (no pun intended) and use BRIBERY. Clearly, taking things away never worked, so perhaps it's time to GIVE. REWARD. ENTICE.

And since, my child has already had his fair share of cupcakes, lollipops, stickers, movies, and "super cool" trucks, I needed to take it up a notch.

"Jonah, what TOY do you want most in the whole wide world?"

"A shooter gun."

"A WHAT??!?!??!"

"A shooter gun."

"What's a SHOOTER GUN?!" I asked horrified.

Barely able to contain his composure, he says fast and excitedly, "A shooter gun is wh-what- you-push-it. And. You. Push. Green button. And. FIRE! SHOOTS! OUT. And the purple. Button. AND YOU SHOOOT IT. And it goes SHOOOTER. And there's FIRE. SHOOTS out."

Before I go any further, let me say this: Guns terrify me. I want nothing to do with them and frankly, the right to bear arms is a notion that freaks me out and disturbs me greatly. That said, I understand that boys will be boys... and though the word "gun" or "shoot" (not to be mistaken with "shit," which I have been known to say from time to time) is NOT something I have personally uttered around my son, thanks to life, media, friends and just plain evolution: He wants a "Shooter Gun."

Bribery, I believe in. Guns, I do not. But for the sake of sleep, both his and mine, it is time to pull the trigger. (No pun intended. Again).

So... Off to Toys R Us we go. I make it very clear what our mission is: He will choose a "shooter gun," (Which at this point, I pray actually exists and isn't something that is behind a glass case and requires a driver's license). I tell him, that after he selects his toy, we will take it home, wrap it up, and write out a chart (see picture) stating all the rules -- rules, which he obviously defies nightly and need to be nipped in the bud. (FYI, we came up with these rules together. And yes, he did make it clear that he should be allowed to call me or get out of bed if he also has "Fro Up.")

We went over the plan a dozen times before we got to the store, and a dozen more inside the store. THANKFULLY, after rows of totally inappropriate toys that could actually harm a child, we found what I deem: A SHOOTER GUN.

It basically, makes "Buzz Lightyear noises!" It's called a "fire blaster." The middle turns around, lights up, and makes Space Mountain sounding noises. OKAY, fine. NOW we're talking. A boy toy I can wrap my head around.

Well... I'm pleased to say, that night one was a success. And as I type this, the beginning of night 2 seems to be working too.... Many people asked what I'll do after 5 nights... if he'll expect more bribes... Well, I have no idea. Feel free to shoot me some suggestions. No pun... Well, you get the idea.

INCEPTION: PRESCHOOL STYLE

Though bedtime has become a battle in my house as of late, there are actually a few sweet rituals that have little to no hysteria-three year-old-hostage stand-off- negotiation type qualities. One of those rituals happens to be a discussion about dreams... After I've told him a story about how houses are built in a factory run by five men named Bob, Steve, Joe, Fred, and Roger (don't ask), I rock him in the chair and tell him to have sweet dreams. Of course, conversation ensues...

J: What should I dream about, Mommy?

Me: Tonight, you should dream about chocolate chips, rainbows and Giraffes who play the violin---

J: No, no, no, Mommy. I'm going to have a different dream.

Me: Okay...

J: I'm going to dream about chocolate chips, rainbows, and fast, fast planes that go like this-shhhh shhhhh-shhhh- zooom! (he almost pokes out an eye).

Me: That sounds like a good dre---

J: But, Mommy, Mommy, Mommy!

Me: Yes, love?

J: What will you dream about?

Me: Oh, I'm going to abouuuuut.... Mint chocolate chip ice cream, beautiful green trees, and----

J: No, no, no, Mommy. You can't dream about that. You have to dream about, um, um, um...

Me: Yes?

J: You have to dream about shooter guys-

Me: Shooter guys? That's scar-

J: NO! Mommy! You have to dream about shooter guys, a house factory, and marshmallows.

Me: Okay. Is that all.

J: Yes. That's all.

Me: Well... That'll be an interesting dream.

J: But, Mommy...?

Me: Yes?

J: You know what would be so coooo-uuuhhhll?

Me: What???

J: If you were in my dream.

M: Yah. That would be cool. You can dream about me.

J: Mommy, you could have the same dream... what I'm dreaming mommy, if you want.

Me: You want me to dream about the same thing as you?

J: Yah. You can, Mommy. You can do it. If you want, Mommy. You can have my dream.

Me: That's very sweet. Thank you. I love fast, fast planes.

J: Not fast fast planes mommy. Poop. You can dream about poop. It's very funny.

Me: Oh. Yes it is.

J: Do that mommy, dream about poop.

I think I just got "incepted."

WINE VS. SLEEP

As someone dedicated to hypochondria and overall "shpilkes," I'm pretty hardcore when it comes to popping pills. That is, I DON'T like to take medicine of any kind unless I have to. I have this irrational fear about mixing medication with just about anything: wine, coffee, Pink Berry... No joke, I have called a doctor before to ask if it was okay to take Advil with Diet Coke. (What if just one time, my body couldn't handle the ibuprofen, caffeine and NutraSweet combination, and POOF, I die?! This is a valid concern!)

I think one of the scariest things about being a single mom is feeling like you can't get sick-- you always have to be in control and the one in charge. So, I especially get nervous when I get sick (or have an itchy leg... ) and need to take something that could potentially, though probably not, make me drowsy when I'm alone with Jonah. God forbid he wakes up at night (which he almost always does lately), and I'm in a Tums induced coma?!

Anyway, herein lies the issue: I have not been sleeping well at all. I'm exhausted. I need a GOOD, solid night of sleep. I ALSO, really need to relax and reconnect with friends and would absolutely benefit from a lovely glass of Pinot Noir or two. Jonah will be sleeping at his dad's.

It's one thing to mix a Motrin with orange juice, it's another to pop a Lunesta with chardonnay. Uh, uh. No, NO.

So the question is: What do I need more? Wine or sleep? What do YOU need more of? Has there ever been a time when you've mixed? I'm even more curious about this: Have you ever OR would you ever take a sleeping pill to help you sleep when children are present (sleeping)?

One thing is for sure on my end: unless there was another coherent adult present (and even then, I would be nervous about doing this), I don't think I could take a medication that might potentially keep me from having to pick up J's Pillow Pet off the floor 3:45 am or any other mothering matter. In fact, I'm pretty sure on the Ambien warning label it says: Do not mix with goldfish, toothbrush battles, preschool drop off, or dirty lunchboxes...

Speaking of zoning out... wouldn't a day at the spa be amazing?!

Well, now through February 28th, my friends at Red Tricycle are giving away a luxury spa treatment to Burke Williams!

• Simply go to http://redtri.com/newsletter-signup and sign up for Red Tricycle
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• A random winner will be selected from all entries. If one of my referrals win, I'll also win a spa treatment!

Now THAT is a win win situation. (And, a night that neither pills nor wine will be necessary to induce sleep!)

MY DREAM

For the past few weeks, Baby-Ko has woken up saying "Mommy, I'm up from my dream! Come get me!" As I pick him up out of his crib (yes, he's turning 3. No, he's not in a big boy bed yet), I do my best to cheerily ask him about said dream.

Me: "What did you dream about?"

Baby-Ko: "The jungle!"

Me: "The jungle?!"

Baby-Ko: "Yaaaaaaaaaah, the jungle. And, and, and, the ocean!"

Now before you marvel at how amazingly imaginative my young boy is, I must confess: He did not come to these brilliant visions and landscapes on his own. I sort of fed them to him... At some point, during a typical nightly sleep battle, I encouraged him to close his eyes and think of all these lovely places... I promised him, that in the morning, "when the moon goes down, and the sun comes up," we would talk about our dreams... And I did. In the morning, I asked him about his dream. He just said "it was good," then asked me what I dreamt about.... Well, one day I dreamt about a lake, the next day it was an ocean, another it was a farm, and so on...

Fast forward to this morning.... He dreamt about a monkey biting him and a lion named Fred. He caught on quickly.

The point to me sharing this is that it's what happens AFTER our little dream sequence, if you will, that will hopefully matter the most in his life and in mine. Every morning, after he gets out of bed, he comes in to mine, I offer him a "snackie," he chooses a show to watch (well, it's not like he chooses any show. It's not like he's like, "oh mom, you recorded, Weeds. Let's watch"), and I go back to sleep as long as humanly possible....

I gently try to remind Baby-Ko that there's an entire bed, and he should move over...

But he has made up his mind... he's staying put....

Sometimes he literally puts his head on top of mine. Skull to skull doesn't feel great and, to be honest, is kind of annoying...

But I know one day he won't want to do this- he won't want to cuddle and he certainly won't want to talk about wild monkeys and talking lions.... So for now, I'll deal with the lack of space and the lack of sleep. If anything, it makes for some truly wild dreams of my own....

LIKE A FIDDLE

As mentioned a few weeks ago, I have officially become a single mom. This change in status not only comes with a slew of complex emotions and sadly, hairier legs, but also an onslaught of incessant mommy guilt.... which, as a working parent, who happens to work in the world of parenting, it can feel a little overwhelming. So, with a 2.5 year old little boy, my sensitivity level to what might ultimately eff him up for life (due to said divorce) is at an all time high...

That said, I think it's gone too far and Baby-Ko knows it. The kid is playing me. He hears the guilt in my voice every time I say "no" (and then give in). He senses my worry that he may have issues some day as a result of the divorce every time he begs for "one more minute" (and then I give in). He sees the stress of a difficult year on my face every time he chucks my phone across the room (.... and I do nothing about it).

He's on to me. He's got me hook, line and sinker. Dialed in. Putty in his hands....

And he's starting to take advantage.

Please refer to recent events, if you will:

For a week or so, right before lights out, Baby-Ko would turn over in his bed and say,

"Mommy, I want my dadddddddy."

Gulp. "I'm so sorry. I, I, I--- I know. It's okay," I said trying to hide the knife ripping my aorta. "Okay, my love. Mommy's here. Let me pat your tushy." (Yes, he likes his tushy patted.)

But, one minute turned into 5 minutes. 5 minutes turned in to 10 minutes. And 10 minutes turned in to missing 30 Rock, Lost, and Baby-Ko never having to sit in a shopping cart at the market for the rest of the week.

Surely, you didn't think ME working in the world of parenting meant *I* actually know what I'm doing, did you???

About a week later... before lights out....

"Mommy, I want my daddddddy."

"I know you want your daddy. I'm sorry you have sad feelings. We'll call him in the morning."

"But I sad."

"I'm sorry you're sad," I said trying not to think about the therapy fund that I should have set up for him in utero. "It's time to go night night, Baby-Ko. Go night night..."

...And eventually, with more tushy patting then a Major League Baseball Game, he fell asleep.

It took a few more nights, but then it hit. I got it ....

"Mommy, I just. I just so sad."

"Why are you so sad?"

"Because, because, I just. I just miss my daaaadddy."

"I know you miss your daddy. We'll call him in the morning. It's night night time."

"But, but. I just so sad."

"Why are you so sad?"

"Because, because, I just. I just miss my Mimi." (Mimi is my mom. His grandma. A woman he sees about 4 TIMES a week.)

"Okay, baby. We'll call Mimi in the morning. Go night night."

"But, but, I just so sad, mommy!" He said dramatically.

"Why. Why are you sad, Baby-Ko?" I asked trying to be patient.

"Because, because, I just. I just miss my Ash-a-wee." Um.... (Ash-a-wee is his babysitter. A woman he sees about 5 TIMES a week.... And had left just 2 hours prior.)

"Oooo-kay, Baby-Ko. I know you miss Ash-a-wee. Let's go to bed. Mommy is going out of here now," I said as I turned to the door.

"Mommy! Wait!" He screamed.

"Yes, Baby-Ko."

"I sad!"

"WHY. ARE. YOU. SAD?" I said doing my absolute best to exude patience.

"Because, because, I just. I just miss my sisters...."

"Your SISTERS???"

"Yeah. My sisters. I so sad."

"Good night, Baby-Ko," I said holding in my laugh and patting his tushy one last time before I left the room.

That night my only child slept through the night. And I finally caught on to him AND caught up on Lost.

PARENTING: I COULD LEARN A THING OR TWO...

No matter how hard I try, my mornings with Baby-Ko are usually a little harried... especially when he wakes up at 5:36am ready to play doctor. (Oh, have I mentioned he likes to pretend that he works at a "Hop-tical" now?) Despite my attempts to have everything from food, to clothes to morning rituals laid out and planned ahead, there is one thing I have zero control over: his mood.

This morning: He. Was. In. A. Mood.

Gave him the play dough (reserved for his table/ but played with on the couch).
Gave him a lollipop (reserved for dinner/ but given before breakfast).
Gave him a basket of my old makeup (reserved for the bathroom/ but deposited somewhere I hope doesn't stain).

"What is wrong, Baby-Ko? I have to get ready and you have to go to school..."
"No. I don't want toooooooo," he whimpered.
"I know, I wish I could stay home today, but I can't. I have to go to work. I have to get ready my love."
"Pick MY up," he said.
"Pick you up? Okay..." I picked him up. He rested his head on my shoulder. "I have to get ready baby, I'm so sorry," I whispered.
"Mommy, BUH-LAX."
"Huh?"
"I want mommy buh-Lax. On the couch," he said matter-of-factly.
"You want mommy....? To what?"
"BUH. LAX. On the couch!" he said pointing.
I paused. What the eff is Buh-lax. A light bulb went off:
"You want mommy to RELAX????"
"Yeaaaaaaah," he said nuzzling in to my chest. "On the couch. Mommy cuddle."
I pause. Take it in. Remember that in 10 years, I will be yearning to Buh-Lax with him.
"Okay, baby. For a few minutes."
"Yeahhhhhh...."

For the next 5 minutes, we sat closely and stared into space. The traffic, the morning meetings, the coffee that was not yet in my system... It all could wait. We. Were. Buh-Laxing...

Can't wait to see what life lesson my very own parenting expert has in store for me tomorrow...

IF THAT AIN'T LOVE

Last night I slept on the floor. Yes. The floor. Next to Baby-Ko's crib. In a fetal position. Using his changing pad as pillow, and my robe as a blanket, I managed to squeeze my arm through a slat so that my son, my very (possibly terrible) two year old son, could hold my hand, and eventually (pray god) fall the eff asleep.

Two hours and one majorly numb hip later, I gently removed my hand from his grip, and literally crept out of the room cursing every creak my exhausted knees caused as I crawled down the hallway.

For about a week now, I have broken every rule in THE sleep book. He cries. I pick him up. I put him down. I go in. I go out. I sleep with him. He sleeps with me. He eats. I eat. He drinks. I drink. It's like sleep training all over again only worse: He TALKS. He can reason with me. He can beg. He can plead. And he can even make me laugh in the middle of the night. (Not sure why he said he wanted "Meat-a-balls" in the middle of the night. But he did. And it was funny).

The point is, I'm clueless mommy 101 right now and I've got to get a grip. I've got to get him back to sleep and I've got to be consistent. It's hard to know if his new bad habit (which seems to strike at about 1:45am) is the result of something environmental or something developmental, but holy shit: I'm tired.

As I put Baby-Ko to sleep tonight and promised him that I would be in the other room all night, and that tonight, he would sleep in his room ALONE, surrounded by Eeyore, Tigger, Teddy, Monkey and his favorite three blankets, I prayed that he understood what I was saying. I prayed that he understood that I love him so much and that I would sleep on the floor all night with my hand through a slat if I had to.... but that I'm pretty sure I'm not supposed to. That I'm pretty sure that it will only make things harder down the road if I don't nip this in the bud now (again). And that when he's 17, and I'm still checking for monsters under his bed, (and giving him cheerios in a bowl because he simply asks for it at 3am because I'm simply exhausted) his buddies won't think it's very cool...

At least that's what I'm telling myself tonight.... tears and all.

Wish me luck.... And send me your best sleep training advice. Seriously. Just not at 1:45 am. I''ll probably be a little... wrapped up....

LIKE THE BOOK SAID...

The green light on the monitor flares. My eyes pop open.

3:50 A.M.
Aw, shit. I pull the covers over my face and pray Baby-Ko is just talking in his sleep....

3:53 A.M.
Yeah, not so much. He is officially "talking" in the form of crying. I will give it 2 more minutes (like the book said) until I go in and check on him.

3:54 A.M.
Maybe I should go in now... No, no, no. Just wait. 59, 58, 57, 56....

3:55 A.M.
I jump out of bed. The sooner I go in, the sooner he (and I) will go back to sleep... I think. The question is: do I give him the pacifier or just reassure him from the doorway (like the book said). I tiptoe across my bedroom towards the door- CREAAAAAAAK. Baby-Ko cries out. He knows I'm coming. Fucking floors.

3:56 A.M.
I stand over the crib. He already has the pacifier in his mouth and his blankie in his hand. GREAT. Now what? Maybe he's hungry... I will go make a bottle. I dart out to the kitchen. My feet are freezing. Why the hell did I stop breastfeeding? Sooo much easier.

3:58 A.M.
The bottle warmer is taking forever. Screw it. I'll give it to him chilled. That'll teach him a lesson. I assemble the 900 pieces required for the bottle (I swear, if I find out there is toxic plastic in this bottle too, I'm going to be pissed), and head back toward the baby's room. SILENCE. He fell back asleep. Son of a-- NO. This is a good thing. That'll teach ME a lesson. From now on, I'm letting him cry. He's not hungry. He just wanted my attention.

3:59 A.M.
I place the wasted bottle on the nightstand and tell myself the cost of formula is not that bad and at least I can go back to sleep. Sleep... Sleep... Mommy needs-

4:01 A.M.
WHAHHH. Monitor light FLARES. Crap. Okay, okay, he IS hungry after all. Some babies do need to eat once during the night (like the book said). If I feed him now, maybe he'll sleep longer instead of getting up for the day at 6AM, which in my opinion is worse than this.

4:05 A.M.
I stare at Baby-Ko as he gingerly sucks away. What is the matter with me? This is my fault. How is it that he's 7 months old and I haven't figured out whether or not he actually needs to be eating at night? It's me that's causing him to wake up. I'm pretty much encouraging this habit (like the book said). I really need to stop this. Tonight's the last night. I swear. He will have to learn to "tank up" during the day (like the book said). Night time is for sleeping.

4:10 A.M.
He is still sucking but seems to be asleep. I try to gently pry the empty bottle away and swiftly replace it with the pacifier. SUCCESS. Now, using every inner and outer thigh muscle I have, I stand up out of the glider. I carefully lower sleeping Baby-Ko into crib. WHAHH! His eyes OPEN! He is wide awake. Defeated, I pick him up and carry him back to the glider and start all over. I have officially broken every rule in the book.

4:15 A.M.
Bottle finished and Baby-Ko asleep. I slightly lean forward to stand, he OPENS his eyes. SERIOUSLY?! Forget it. I'm putting him into the crib awake (like the book said). He needs to learn how to self-sooth. He kicks playfully and erupts into a big smile the SECOND I put him down. Don't smile back, don't smile back. You will only provoke this behavior further (like the book said). I dash out of the room.

4:18 A.M.
I press the pillow against my ears trying to drown out the cooing coming from the monitor.
T-Ko turns over and sits up. "What's the matter?"
Oh, How nice of you to join us. "Nothing. He won't go back to sleep."
"Let him cry." Thank you, oh wise one.

4:22 A.M.
Monitor light still flares. My mind starts to race: By 7 months, he should be sleeping through the night (like the book said). His sleep should be organized and he should be waking at 7am, napping at 9, 1 and maybe in the afternoon and asleep at 7pm (like the book said). He should be feeding every 4 hours and not grazing all day long (like the book said) ...
He let's out a CRY. UGH. I am just going to give him his pacifier. After that, I'm done. I swear.

4:24 A.M.
Jesus Christ, is there an iceberg under my bedroom floor that the previous homeowners didn't disclose?! OKAY, BACK IN BED. Mommy must sleep. The monitor FLARES, but this time, I turn OFF the monitor (like the book said). There's nothing I can do anymore.
T-Ko turns over. "What's he doing?"
"He's playing. He's completely playing..." We listen to him make his screetchy funny sounds.
"Unbelievable." I say, "I feel clueless. It's been 7 months, and I literally have no idea what to do. I mean, this is ridiculous."
"You want me to ground him?" He jokes as he throws his arms around me.
"I don't know. What does the book say?" I say sarcastically.
"Fuck the book."

6:50 A.M.
Baby-Ko is wide awake. T-Ko gets him from his crib, changes his diaper and gives him a bottle before handing him off to me.
"Good morning, Mommy!" T-Ko says as he carries Baby-Ko into our bedroom and lays him down next to me.
"Hi, my love," I say half asleep. Baby-Ko smiles from cheek to cheek and rolls over and pats my face. "Wake up, mommy," I say kissing his forehead. He rolls in closer and grabs a big chunk of my hair. "Owww!" I say trying to undo his grip. He giggles.
He let's go of my hair but he's looking at me, waiting for me to say it again... "OWW. OWW!"
He's bursts out laughing again. "Your mommy is so funny!" I tell him. "Owww!"

He continues to laugh as we play all morning. What does the book to say about THAT?

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