I have the cutest kid in the world. I know that might be a controversial statement. But I’m pretty sure it’s objectively true.
He has one minor flaw. He doesn’t require sleep.
It’s like a superpower. I don’t know when the radioactive spider bit him, but I sure wish it had waited until he was older.
I’ve worked as a parking lot striper for 20 years. I’m used to an erratic sleep schedule. I’ve seen the sun rise both at the beginning of my work day and the end. I’ve fallen asleep with pizza in my mouth after painting hundreds of lines in the sticky Minnesota summer heat. I thought I knew exhaustion.
But wow, was I mistaken.
My brother had a kid a couple of years before I did. His son was a terrible sleeper. I knew my kid would be different, and I was right for a while. When my baby was about 2 months old, he started sleeping for 7-hour stretches.
I thought I’d nailed this parenting thing.
I called my brother.
“How’s the baby doing?” he asked.
I’m a super supportive younger sister who wants to make sure my brother knows when I’m better at something than he is.
“Oh, he sleeps through the night now.” I tried to sound casual.
