Last night was the third night in a row that Landon went to sleep in his own bed, with Daddy's help. At around 2:00 a.m. I heard a cry from his room and he said, "Mommy!". I sat up to go check on him, then he got quiet. I assumed he was ok and tried to go back to sleep. I tried and tried to fall back asleep and was having no luck. I checked Facebook. I caught up on Words with Friends. I thought about all the things I could get up and do.
Around 3:30 a.m. I got up to use the restroom (TMI??) and I noticed Landon's door was open. I went in to check on him and he wasn't there. Enter, Panic Stricken Mom. The first thing that went through my mind was, "someone has broken in and stolen my child!". Yes, I realize to some of you that may sound completely insane. However, I know some of you reading are shaking your heads in agreement and understanding, knowing you would have thought the same thing.
Back to the story. I ran in to the living room and made a quick sweep. He wasn't there. I continued on to the kitchen, flipped on the light, and glanced around. Then I saw him. He was sitting quietly on the bottom step in the basement, holding his blanket. He saw me (I'm thinking he only saw my shadow at that point) and said, "Daddy". I flew down the stairs, scooped him up, held him close and began to cry. He must have been sitting there for an hour and a half! In complete darkness. Sitting. Holding his blanket and waiting. Before Scott put him to bed, I gave him a kiss and went downstairs. I believe he thought that's where I still was when he awoke in the night.
Guess where he got to sleep for the remainder of the night? Yep, our bed.
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