4 a.m. wake-up call

Every morning, we're awakened by this whimpering. Crying. Whining. I'd do my best whimper here if there were a microphone on this computer. It's classic puppy whining at its best.

It's not like, cute, happening just when the alarm was going off, right before he licks our faces as a ray of sunshine spreads across us all and music plays and it smells like cinnamon rolls, and we all go downstairs to eat drink orange juice and talk about our days before going to work.

No. It's not quite like that.

It usually happens around 4 a.m. when it's cold and there's no sunshine and it doesn't smell like cinnamon at all. I've babysat overnight before for an infant ... OK, and I know it's nothing like BEING a parent (so stop writing the angry comments now), but the moment I first come out of REM sleep to hear the whining, that moment of confusion-slash-realization that if I move, if I make the first "shhhh" sound, I will be the one to get up. That moment. It's the same idea.

"Hey?" Dave will ask, as a test to see if I am awake.

"Dog whining? What dog whining?"