Not being ridiculously angry at 1:30am. DIP 5

"Do you want me to walk like a duck or like a daddy?" My question to Sean came at the right moment. He started to settle down. He even laughed a little.

It was 2:00am, Emily was with Sean on the floor in the living room and I was lying down on the couch. I removed him from the room about 15 minutes before because he was awake, agitated and yelling "sweaty hands" loud enough to wake the other small humans sleeping in our room.

Sleeping kids are so beautiful!

This is not the first time Emily and I found ourselves in this position. While Sean's been sleeping better this last month, over the last year, it feels like we've been there over a hundred times. But this time was different.

I wasn't ridiculously angry. (And for those who are curious, I also wasn't ridiculously good looking, but that's not a surprise to anyone.)

This was a surprise for me. I was definitely tired. I wanted to be sleeping. But I wasn't angry at Sean. I felt with him. I loved him in heart and deed. He wanted to go back into the room but couldn't stop himself from yelling.

"Sweaty hands!"

"I'm too hot!"

"SWEATY hands!"

"I'm too cold!"

"Sweaty HANDS!"

"Sean, what can I do for you?" This was me in a reasonably calm tone.

"I DON'T KNOW!"

Because I started reading "The Whole Brain Child" on Friday (I highly recommend it), I knew that Sean's "I don't know!" wasn't him trying to be difficult. He just didn't know. His brain was shutting down and all he could do is yell. I felt compassion for him. I just wanted to wrap him up in a hug.

Seth celebrating a successful first bedtime!

And the compassion didn't fade for the 45 minutes that he was up. Truly by grace I stayed engaged, compassionate, even keeled, and present to Sean for those 45 minutes.

When I asked about walking like a duck, Sean had already agreed to eating a granola bar. This is always a good step and means that bed is soon in sight. By asking him a simple, silly question, I was helping him engage his brain differently. He had to think and consider the merits of either choice.

He chose "duck walk" as I went to retrieve the granola bar, but switched his plea to "daddy walk" once I had obtained the granola bar. We repeated this silliness for getting a glass of milk and he soon settled down.

Sean doing a walk!

Usually at this point I am fuming, impatient, and angry. Even as Sean has settled, my blood is still boiling from the 45 minutes of yelling and lost sleep. Last night's re-bedtime experience makes me wonder what I've missed in the past.

"Daddy, come in bed with me?" Sean usually wants some company on the lower level of his bunk bed for re-bedtime.

"Yes Sean." I was reluctant, but the compassion was still there. I tucked Sean in, got him situated and started to snuggle him. A few moments of silence passed.

"I farted," Sean confessed.

"Thanks for sharing Sean."

He followed this with a big, sloppy kiss. I turned and kissed him on the cheek. More silence.

"Daddy. (pause) Do you like me?"

"Sean, I love you!"

"I love you too daddy."

My heart melted as my cold body was longing for the warmth and space of my own bed. Sean soon falls asleep (or so I think) and I return to my bed.

"Daddy, can you come back?" I return with a blanket this time, resigned to being smushed against the wall for a possible three more hours of sleep as my 40 pound three year-old takes up more space on this twin mattress than I do.

And we sleep.