The Stare Down

It's 2:52am and I'm having a good-natured stare down with my almost-19-month-old.
My dear sweet husband is happily snoring, oblivious.

Poor Boogs was sick for almost a solid week with some evil bug that gave him a 103+ temp for days, followed by a bit of pukeage, then The Big D (think icky diapers. Ugh. I just don't like that typing the D-word), and ended with a nice rash.
And the insatiable need to be held-or-touching-mama. I admit, I did enjoy the hugs. Not so much trying to steal a shower or a potty break during which he would build up to hysterics, inconsolable by Daddy. Poor kid. Poor Daddy. Poor everyone.

I also don't enjoy how my baby has forgotten how to sleep.

So we are laying, now 2:58 in the a.m., faces inches from each other, staring. I'm trying to convince him he's sleepy via visual cues. Like closing my eyes. Nope.

He prefers silently cramming both little fists into my mouth at the same time.
Because what could possibly be more fun at 3:05am?

Oh, yeah. Zzzzz.

:-)