Elijah has recently moved out of our room and into the nursery, which is all of like six steps across the hall from our room. His bedtime is around 8 pm. We have a specialized routine: last bottle, diaper change, pajamas, book, cuddles, and bed. He wakes up for bottles at 4:30 or 5 and then again at 6:30 or 7.
Last night, we went through our little bed time dance. Mommy read the book while Daddy snuggled the baby and then set him in the crib. We turned off the light, left the room and went to have dinner. We checked on him before we went to bed and then it was lights out.
The next time I looked at the clock was when Nathan's alarm went off at 6:45 this morning. I realized right after I opened my eyes that I hadn't gotten up that night. I looked at Nathan and said "Did you wake up with him?"
"No." I jumped out of bed and ran the six steps to the door. Peeking inside, I saw Little Man, stretching in his sleep.
He had wiggled out of his swaddler a little bit and moved toward the end of the crib, which made me afraid we had missed his crying. There was a thunderstorm last night and the windows in our room rattle horribly in the wind; it could have happened.
Nathan assured me we didn't and I tried to go back to sleep. 15 minutes later an insistent little whine came over the baby monitor.
"There's no way we would have missed that," I said, and went to get our little sleeper out of his crib.