I Really Don’t Want To Get Up.
One morning, while it was still dark outside – like it is every morning before high school in the winter – Shane got up before his alarm went off.
Ugh, he thought, I really don’t want to get up yet. But he got up anyway.
He dragged himself down the hall and into the bathroom. As he does every day, he showered and washed his hair. He got dry. Then he went back down the hall to his bedroom.
When he arrived, his digital clock read 1:00 a.m.
Upon hearing this story, I assumed Shane’s clock was malfunctioning. “Oh no!” I exclaimed. “Did the electricity go out?”
“No,” he said. “It really was 1:00 in the morning. I just woke up before my alarm and went and got a shower.”
“You mean you got out of bed in the middle of the night, got a whole shower and washed your hair, and then found out it was the middle of the night?”
“Yeah,” he said. “I don’t know why I thought it was time to get up. I remember walking down the hall and everything, but I don’t remember getting out of bed.”
Shane has a propensity toward sleepwalking, I think. In fact, this may have been our first example.
One night when Shane and I were in California, Shane had only been asleep for a few minutes when I accidentally bumped something and the noise woke him up. Shane rolled over, looked me straight in the eye, and said, “4-3-3-8-9. I’m pretty sure that’s the number. 4-3-3-8-9. Okay? I’m pretty sure.”
Then he went back to sleep.
I texted the number to his phone. I didn’t have the slightest idea what he was talking about, but I wasn’t going to forget it!
In the morning, Shane had no idea why I had texted him a number. He had no recollection of the conversation but he’d appeared wide awake.
“I don’t know why I would pick that number,” he said. “Part of the first 100 digits of pi is 4-3-3-8, but the 9 is wrong.” (In his spare time, Shane has been memorizing the first 100 digits of pi. Apparently he’s even doing it when he’s unconscious.)
I guess I shouldn’t be surprised that Shane is holding conversations in his sleep and showering in the middle of the night. I still remember one very special night when Shane was a toddler.
Every night, I would tiptoe into my boys’ rooms and kiss each of them on the head. Then I’d whisper – as quietly as I could – “I love you.” And I’d tiptoe back out. Sometimes a boy would roll or move a little after the kiss, but mostly they stayed still.
But one evening during my routine, just as I kissed baby Shane on the head, his eyes popped open.
He was staring right at me; neither of us moved.
Then he smiled his huge, baby grin and said, “I yuv you!” And he rolled over and went back to sleep.
It was the first time my baby ever told me he loved me. And he was probably asleep when he said it.