I went to Collin's room to wake him up this morning, but the first thing I do is check the bed before I sit. Yes, he has wet the bed for the third day in a row.
I wake up at 5:30 to get completely ready before waking them, or it won't be happening. So, after strategic placement of my washed, pressed, and dressed self, I begin waking him with kisses, back-rubs, and a wake-up song to the tune of happy birthday.
He rolls over and tries to ignore me.
I persist.
"I need you to stop talking, and leave me alone to sleep." This kid....
As I type this, I am sitting on the front porch step, in my nice work dress, in 95 degrees, waiting for my son to realize that he is, in fact, able to get himself out of the car. His screaming doesn't affect me much anymore.
It's been 20 minutes.
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