The other night we had a “wolf moon",” which in native American tradition is the largest full moon of the year. Because it is at its closest approach to the Earth it appears to be 30 percent larger and 14 percent brighter (according to the National Geographic web site and because I know these things). Maybe I’m a lunatic or just plain loony, but whatever it is, Mommy & Daddy have not been happy that I’ve been staying up all hours of the night.

I’m just not tired.

You can read me story after story, and then do 3-6 dark stories until your mind becomes mush, but I’ll still stay awake until after you go to bed. I try to limit actually getting up (I know how harsh the scoldings can be if I get caught), but sometimes changing the music cd or grabbing a different stuffed animal will make the difference and make me sleepy. But getting up would really be the best solution. You wanna try that Mom & Dad?

I got gas. I’m not going to fluff it up with pretty words like "toots” or “breezers.” When I gotta fart, I gotta fart. (I’m a boy. I’m gross like that.) Problem is, around 10:30pm after I’ve been sleeping for a bit, a pesky gas bubble gets in my belly and causes some incredible distress. And I can’t always get it out by myself.

So I cry. I cry loud. And if there was the slightest chance that my sister happened to fall asleep, I wake her up. The only way to calm me down is to get me out of bed to “crawl it out.” I gotta move to get that bubble moving on it’s way out. Sometimes it’s a fart. Other times I burp. Either way, once it’s gone I’m good. Toss me back in bed and I’m out until morning.

Unless another gas bubble shows up.

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