5:00 a.m. is an hour before I usually get up. It may not seem like much difference, but it's an important hour. I'm pretty sure that's the hour when all my best dreams happen. (Doesn't it seem like all your good bedtime dreams are interrupted by the alarm clock?)
At first, I thought maybe my son would still let me sleep. My husband got up to get him out of his crib and brought him upstairs to our bed, hoping maybe he would cuddle down and, if not nap, at least lay quietly with us.
I think he may have done that, but it was for such a brief period of time that it can't be observed in units larger than nanoseconds.
My son squirmed up next to me, giggling, and tangled his little legs and feet in the covers. "Mama night-night?"
"Yes, baby, mama's trying to go night-night."
