Many of my earliest childhood memories involve being at a restaurant, a party, or even the dinner table, listening to my parents and siblings (who are 9 and 12 years older than me) and begging, repeatedly:

"Will somebody PLEASE put me to BED?!?!?"

I was never the child who wanted to stay up for one more story.

So it came as no surprise when, while snuggling with Walt over a good pre-bed book, he looked up at me, smiled and said "Nite nite".

I gladly claim full responsibility but only as it relates to my genetics, not my parenting skills. I try not to talk about his sleep habits with other parents simply because I know how good we have it. At 15 months, he still sleeps 15-17 hours a day, and "putting him to bed" in our household means placing him in his crib, turning the light out and waving goodnight.

This also means that he has never slept in our bed. Literally. The notion of him sleeping in our bed is about as preposterous as the notion of him sleeping in the third ring of a circus. To him, our bed is where  the action happens. His thoughts seem to be: "Sleep?! HERE?!?! But you guys are here!"

I know we have it good. Too good. So I relish every 8-hour night of sleep I get and fully expect that some day it will change. For now, I just want Walt (and the universe that delivered me this incredible little being), to know that I could not be more grateful that he inherited my sleeping genes!