Technically Ryder's 6.75 months old but hey, that's alright. What's important is that he went down to sleep at 10pm and didn't wake up until 6:30am. And he really didn't wake up much. The milk faucets were dripping and I, as Dairy Overseer, made the executive decision to gently remove my child from his crib and hold him to my chest. He didn't even open his eyes but immediately latched on for breakfast. That's my kid, not gonna miss a meal.
I think he would've slept an hour or more longer had I not woken him. Perhaps tomorrow morning I'll pump if he's still asleep when my boobs demand relief. Please, God, let there be a repeat of last night's good sleeping. Yes, I've gone from bargaining with God to let me live through this hangover (always uttered while worshipping at the porcelain throne) to pleading with Him for sleep. That's life, always begging our deities for something. Don't think I'm not appreciative. Once I bolted awake (wet sheets + ceiling fan = cold) and rushed to the nursery I was thanking God that Ryder was okay. I automatically assumed something must be hideously wrong since my sweet babe let me sleep for so long of a stretch. One for the baby books!
Another one for the baby book is Ryder's first diss. His first insult was dished out by his cousin Michael, oh so wordly at the ripe old age of ten. We were visiting Kim in St. Louis and riding in the car on an errand. Ryder was playing with Michael's favorite toy as an infant, a stuffed purple rhino. The rhino's horn is a bit worn from when Michael used to gnaw on it. My baby must've trying to mouth it's bum because Michael suddenly exclaimed "Wrong end, Baby Einstein!". It was said affectionately but with a hint of sarcasm. We exploded into laughter. Okay, so maybe not as amusing in the retelling but at the time it was quite funny.