Monitored

Thursday: Carrie's parents forgot to send home part of the monitor for Shane's room.

"He'll be fine," I said. "He's got to learn to get up and come to us if he has a problem anyway."



Saturday: The monitor in the mail. Carrie didn't ask; I didn't tell. Why stop progress?



Monday: Tooth extraction day. The recovery instructions noted Shane may drool pink overnight.



Monday night: I congratulated myself on our graduation from a monitor. I hoped we'd start to get more sleep. Carrie's notorious for startling awake sometimes. I listen intently to see if I need to handle anything and pray she won't wake.



Monday night late: Carrie startled awake and said, "What about the monitor?!" "It's fine," I said. "He knows to come and get us if he needs us."



Tuesday Morning: Shane cried and called for me at 6:15 AM. I jogged over to check on him. He told me what was wrong when I came in.

"You think you're going to throw up?" I asked.

He cried and nodded.

"Where do you go to throw up?"

"The bathroom...," Shane sniffled.

"Why don't you go to the bathroom?"

And the spell was broken. Half-asleep, I deduced what happened.

Shane had drooled. Just like the dentist said. He thought he was going to hurl. Shane's stomach hurt, because he was hungry. Last night, he said he was full and then tried to ask for food he couldn't have immediately after.

I don't know how long he cried before I woke up. If I'd heard him sooner. he (and I) may have gone back to sleep (Unless my reaction time was really that good).

There's a learning curve to independence.

I still haven't hooked the monitor up. I figure we'll have more accidents and wake up calls, but it's got to go at some point. It's already gone, so I'd like to keep it that way.