It's 3am and you are up. Not just up but seated, playing. And you are smiling with your eyes wide open. Not to me, you already know that I'm in no smiling mood. To be precise, I'm teary and grumpy.

It has been several tries and I've given up. Several of those moments where  you begin crying once your body hits the mattress. I don't know how you do it, seconds ago you were sound asleep in my arms.

I've managed an hour or two of sleep. That was after three hours of those episodes. The ones with ten or twenty minutes intervals, between my achievement of putting you to sleep and something else deciding you should wake up. It's not your fault, you can't control anything anyway.

Soon you'll be yawning and dozing off. And of course crying to be put to sleep. Then we'll start again. That is, until the **** decides that it's 3am and he needs to do his job. And his brothers need to crow too. Before I know it, it'll be daylight, and grandma will always be there to accuse mama of oversleeping