The babe is seven months old. She has two teeth. She’s sitting all by herself. She’s eating real food.
She’s also staying up WAY too late.
And I don’t mean a teeny bit late. I mean she stays up late like that one indefatigable chick at your 5th grade slumber party– the one you just knew would draw a mustache on your face and stash your training bra in the freezer the moment your wimpy little eyelids closed. She’s the chick you have to invite because she’s the most fun ever but, truth be told, she scares the living number-two out of you.
I blame her brother. With his incessant chatter about “yeah-yo coo buses” (yellow school buses) and demands to watch “Pee-na Pan” (Peter Pan— he’s watched the Cathy Rigby stage production DVD that we found at the public library exactly 200,000 times), the girl can barely get a word in. In the evenings, she babbles a bit and whines sometimes but for the most part, she’s happy to chuckle at her brother and bide her time until nightfall.
That’s when the Late Show with Franny Lou begins.
The second we lay Simeon down for the night, the girl perks up, pulls on her party pants, grabs a mic (not really), and raises her silly flag high into the air. Squawking and shouting, cooing and babbling, laughing in a way that can only be described as hearty guffaws– the girl is on fire. Not only does the noise ramp up after her brother’s 8:30 bedtime, the gross motor tricks do too. She bounces and rolls around. She wiggles and nosedives into pillows. She sits beside me on the couch and tries to scale Mount Mommy like a tabby cat on a Christmas tree.
She keeps the party spirit pumping until 10PM… or 11PM… or sometimes, midnight. It’s exhausting.
It’s also so stinking cute I can hardly stand it.
As much as Greg and I sigh and grimace and make hushed predictions about how much longer it’ll be before she lets us sleep, I know deep down we both love this. When I think back, the first two and a half years of Simeon’s life was nothing but alone time. I dug having him all to myself and seeing little bits of his personality emerge during that first fleeting year. We see the same thing with Franny but it’s different when your baby is a sibling and not an only. Undivided attention is hard to come by and three-year-olds aren’t terribly interested in playing second fiddle. But there is a solution to the problem and Franny found it– she decided to become a night owl. I think she might be a genius.
So watch your back, future 5th grade slumber party goers. Someday Franny Lou is going to show up on your doorstep with a bedazzled sleeping bag and she’s got a fistful of permanent markers and a bowl of warm water with your name on it. Until then, I’ll take all the late night baby talk and I’m-not-sleepy snuggles she has to dish out.
Even if it means I’m up until 11PM on a school night.
C’mon though, you guys. Look at that face. Worth it.
This week we finally got her to go down by 9:30PM (at least for a few nights) and I think I needed the extra sleep for sure. My baby is a night owl, I guess. Anyone else in the same boat? Did you work to get your babe on a better schedule or did you just go with it? Is this crabby outfit not the cutest thing you’ve ever seen?