Sleepy Hofmanns

Dear Charlotte,

Daddy and I love you. Without a second thought, we’d throw ourselves in front of a bus, pie truck, train, or tractor for you.

Child, I birthed you. And remember, that epidural came very, very late in the birthing game.

But you were worth it. You are our daughter, our first-born, the organic Fuji apple of our eyes. You light up our lives with your sly smile and your joy-filled eyes, your jolly giggles and snuggly hugs.

But you’re killing us, darling girl. You are freaking killing us.

Wake-up time is at 6:30 a.m. Not 5:00. Not 4:00. And especially not on a Saturday.

Grown-ups don’t nap. When you wake up at 4:30 in the morning, you nap on the way to school. You nap again in the afternoon. Mommy and Daddy? We drink lots of coffee and try to get excited about a long work day.

Day after day you have done this. We now consider making it to 6:00 “sleeping in” on a Saturday. And you have not “slept in” for quite some time.

We have readjusted the air conditioning timing, in case that affected your wake-up time. We readjusted the air vent in your room. You have blackout shades (not that daylight makes its appearance at 4:30 a.m.). After you go to sleep at night, we’ve put toys in your crib to entertain you in the early-morning hours when you awaken.

And still, so unbelievably early, you begin screeching for Mommy or Daddy. Ten hours of sleep is a good stretch, dear girl. But eleven—or twelve—would be better.

Where did our good sleeper go? How do we get her back? Is it time to switch to a big-girl bed, so you can run around the house and play a bit before waking Mommy and Daddy?

Or, little one, is this your way of saying you don’t want siblings?

Because it’s working.