I walked in the back door yesterday evening around 5:30. As I stepped into the living room I practically stepped on Cole – who…was asleep on the floor. I gingerly stepped over him and a few paces later almost stepped on Roark – who…was asleep on the floor. Apparently they decided not to nap during the day and couldn’t stay awake a moment longer. It was cute. Very cute. But not cute enough to make up for the Whiney McWhinerson that Roark became the moment he woke up until the moment he went to bed. I could not look at him without him breaking down into a sobbing mess. EVERYTHING MADE HIM CRY. Dinner? Cry. Milk? Cry? Holding him? Cry. Pajamas? Cry. Diaper? Cry. Bedtime? Well, you get the idea. He cried and cried and cried until he was finally asleep for the night.
I can no longer remember when the boys were babies and they were like that all the time. How did I not kill myself? Seriously. One night of it drove me CRAZY. Oh thank god they actually grow out of that stage. Now we need to get past the terrible twos. Quickly.