This She Then Didn't

I'd like to show you a picture of a beautiful sleeping baby.

(Just as an aside, those are my old crib sheets, which I think is kind of awesome, and I like the mohawk she's got going on there).

Anyway, this was not taken last night, as there was less of this sort of behavior than I would like.  Though to be fair, M's bad night did include a stretch of 3 hours or so now that I stop to calculate.  She went to bed at 9, woke up at 11 and 1:30 and 4:30 and 5:15 (I'm not entirely sure that she went back to sleep at 4:30, but she was pretty quiet for a little while).

When she wakes up, before she starts squawking, she drums her heels.  You may notice from the picture that her arms are tied down and she has chock-blocks to keep her from rolling over.  Her way of signifying that she's awake is to lift her feet high in the air and smash them into the mattress.  Not, as far as I can tell, in an angry way - she has plenty of ways of conveying anger that she is ready and willing to use when it gets to that - but as an expression of boredom.  It also occasionally gets the bottom half of her swaddle loose, so she may be trying to do that.  Anyway, I've gotten to the point where I waken pretty easily when I hear hoofbeats, as sometimes a judiciously placed pacifier can stave off wakefulness.

See?  Heel-drumming.  And then rubbing her feet together conspiratorily.

Actually, as I write this and consider all that she has been doing over the past week, it strikes me that her midnight heel-drumming may be a manifestation of her increased consciousness of her feet qua feet, since she has grasped them and tasted them and pronounced them good.