You are the worst sleep partner ever. Every night I wake up more exhausted than the last and declare the day: the 'real' day you start sleeping in your crib. Without fail, as bedtime approaches, and you settle into my chest for bedtime stories - I break. Your father shoots me that 'I love you, but you're a total lunatic look' from across the room. (I am very familiar with this look.) Just like that you've earned another first class ticket to the punch, kick, and jab mom in the side ride. All night I slide, move and reorient both of us as many times as an elderly man asks you to repeat yourself. I am up. Often for hours at a time - or in thirty minute increments. As if to make up for your nightly transgressions, you wake up in the sweetest moods: smiling and leaning in for kisses. Well son, here's to the real, 'real' day you start sleeping in your crib.