I am not only a late riser – but also a slow one. What does that mean? It takes hell lot of a time for me to wake up – in the morning (or any time when I am about to wake up for that matter), I can almost subconsciously feel that now my blissful slumber is about to culminate but my body doesn’t fully wake up and sometimes it takes so unduly long that the person trying to wake me up just gives up. It’s not something that I am particularly proud of but given the fact that I am nearing the twice as much of what is called a sweet age, I am not ashamed of it either.
Quite surprisingly, my little one, ten months old now – is able to wake up from the deepest of her sleep without a split second and just gets on with her usual waywardness and hullabaloo like she did before we (read her mother) so laboriously put her to sleep. Even more alarming when the length of her sleep, however small might that be to be in comparison with a heavy sleeper like me, leaves her equally charged up.
Every moment of fatherhood is challenging and enlightening in some form of the other.