Mr F woke up at 230. I checked with him, helped him lay back down and sat in the chair in the hall reading.
At 250, he was almost asleep but wanted to move to the floor.
At 310 he was asleep and I started to stand up and head to bed but the CHAIR CREAKED LIKE AN OLD HOUSE IN A HURRICANE AND WOKE HIM UP.
*sighs, heads back to Buzzfeed*
UPDATE 330 AM I have moved to the floor & am planning class action suit against chairs.
UPDATE 406 AM: No sound or movement from bed for 36 minutes. Left leg completely numb. I got up to close the door. There was a tiny creak. He's back up. I'm back down.
UPDATE 510 AM: I broke down and we took a ride to calm him down. It didn't. He's laying in his bed, occasionally mumbling to himself or hitting his head. When we got back from the ride, Mr Bunches briefly woke up.
"Dad," he said. "Are you back?"
I said I was.
"I'm sure glad you're back," he said.
"Me, too," I agreed.
After about 20 seconds, he said quietly:
"Dad, when I get up in the morning can I play with my Legos?"
I said he could.
UPDATE 530 AM. I am making coffee. Mr F is upstairs in his room, upset and trying to calm down. Mr Bunches has woken back up and is watching videos on a tablet from his bed. Going to be a long day.
2 comments:
You know, I've had those nights, but they were individual nights or a short-lived thing, not something ongoing (even the at is better, now). I don't know if I could do that anymore. Respect.
We all do what we have to, right?
Whenever things get rough, I try to give us a small reward -- we might go out for breakfast, or take a trip to the bookstore, or something. It helps. It's like I tell my clients, sometimes: I can't take away the bad things that happened, but at least I can give you something to feel positive about now.
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