I love Nathaniel in the morning. He always wakes up smiling and speaking with a sing song kind of lilt in his voice. "Good morning," he says over and over, grinning. So different from the little demon he becomes when his 8 PM bedtime approaches.

In the best case scenario, we retire together to read some books and he falls asleep before we're done. I should say that that is what's best for me. Popular wisdom would say, and no doubt be right, that it would be better for his sake if I allowed him to learn how to put himself to sleep. In anycase, this scenario is a pleasant one and how it goes a third of the time.

Another third of the time, we read the books but he does not fall asleep. Then, I either put up the baby gate and leave him to his own devices or I fall asleep myself, dimly aware of him roaming around the room, scattering toys, getting into my nightstand, breaking Daddy's alarm clock....

The final third of the time represents the true ying-yang, bi-polar, biorythmic extremes he can progress through between waking up and going to sleep. A day that begins with his sweet little smiles can turn, by 8 o'clock, into a nightmare of angry outbursts and irrational, contradictory demands. "I want my bike!" Okay, here's your bike. "NOOOO!!!! Don't touch it!!!"

On my Birthday last week, this process was succinctly exemplified. That morning when he very first woke up I said to him, "It's Mommy's birthday today." He was so cute. "You're birthday coming today?" he kept saying in response. Flash forward to that night. "Hey, it was Mommy's birthday today." "NOOOOO!!!!! It's NOT your birthday today! It's NOT your birthday!"