I had one of those mornings. It didn't start well. Luke who is normally the late sleeper awoke at 5:30 screaming and in turn woke up Hannah who came running into our room frenzied that he was crying and no one was getting him. (In my half asleep state I guess I was hoping he would scream himself back to sleep). He screamed and screamed and she whined and whined that he needed me and I should be getting him. I looked at him through half opened eyes in the monitor and saw that he was only minutes away from hurling himself over the edge of the crib so I sleepily hoisted myself out of bed, meandered down the dark hall behind worried Hannah and opened the door to screaming Luke's room. The door wasn't even fully ajar when I heard him squealing "Hi! Hi! Hi!". Far too excited for 5:37 am. I brought him back to my bed knowing full well that my squirmy son would sit for about 13 minutes of Wow Wow Wubbzy before he would flip onto his belly and start sliding his way feet first off the bed and make a bee line for the stairs ready for breakfast. "Cuddling" is not in his vocabulary. Neither is "Sitting Still" or "Relaxing".