Who’s to say what it is, exactly, that August does when he’s alone, asleep in his nursery?

You never quite know what you’re going to find when you wake him up. Or rather, when he wakes you up.

For example, there was the time he had turned himself a full 90 degrees in his crib so instead of laying longways (normal) he was laying latitude-ways (not normal). (Remember, this is a child who can’t walk, let alone roll over, find his mouth with his fingers or control his head — though on the latter three, he’s definitely making progress.)

Then there was the time, he woke his mum at an irregular 1.30 a.m. and she found him laying at one end of the crib in just a T-shirt and diaper with the swaddle all the way at the other end of the crib. Mysterious.

Then there was the time that just one booted foot was extricated from the swaddle, dangling through the slats of the crib in the cool air.

And then there was the time that he’d somehow managed to propel himself to the top end of his crib so that his head was pressed against the slats and his neck was turned at a totally unacceptable angle. If he were stiff and old like a grown up, that would have resulted in a severe crick in his neck. Did August mind? Not one bit!

Meanwhile, his mum is dealing with her own nighttime antics, waking up at 4.15 a.m. by habit and feeling fully — gasp — awake by 5 a.m. Don’t worry, it doesn’t last. By 7 a.m., the exhaustion fairies take over and there’s nothing she’d rather do than stretch out in the bed and close her eyes and breathe deeply and relaaaaaaaax…

Of course, that never happens.

Tags: Nursery, Sleeping