I’ve been blessed with a pretty good sleeper. Of course, we all have our bumps in the road – weeks or months involving night-time wake ups and such. But when I look at the past three years, on average, things have been pretty good. Part of that may have to do with my decision to keep Peanut in a crib until the age of thirteen (she’s never tried to get out!), but I’d also like to think it’s partially inherent.
This spring, however, things changed. Every morning several birds, perched on the large tree in my patch of front lawn, begin their morning song early. Far too early. I feel like I’m sleeping in the Audubon Jungle; at 5:30am. And the time seems to only be creeping backwards. Two nights ago I woke to a very loud chirping…at 3:45am. It’s horrifying, really.
Of course, Peanut knows roosters (and heck, any type of bird) mean it’s time to rise (what self-respecting three year old doesn’t?). So, when the birds are up, so is she.
“Do you think you could try and pretend the birds aren’t there?” I asked her.
“I told birds…go away! They fly away. And I sleep longer and longer,” she responded.
Apparently she’s already taken care of the problem.