The cult of Elmo

Elmo rules my house. This silly red Sesame Street puppet has the ability to calm the most wound up toddler. Elmo (a.k.a "Sesame Street," "Elmo's World") is the only TV Sophia asks to watch. Elmo is teaching Sophia how to use the potty. Elmo tells Sophia in her Valentine's Day book that he loves her. Elmo talks to her on the phone. My aunt even made an Elmo book about cutting Sophia's nails. Sophia will do almost anything Elmo tells her to do. Elmo is my hero.

He is also my archnemesis. If she glimpses Elmo any where, in any place, she immediately reacts and needs to see it. We avoid the toy aisle like the plague.

Sophia went to day care today dressed head-to-toe in Elmo. From her Elmo sneakers to her Elmo track suit, this child was decked out. She was so proud of her outfit, and she did look cute, but it's also a little disturbing.

She has red Elmo slippers and Elmo sneakers, an Elmo towel and washcloth, Elmo books and videos, Elmo dolls, Elmo telephones, Elmo music, Elmo sippy cups, an Elmo fork and spoon, an Elmo chair, I even have two Elmo videos in my iPod for those particularly bad car rides. It's gotten so overwhelming that if Sophia sees something red, she'll point to it and say, "Melmo, Melmo."

What is it about that furry red monster? Sometimes when Sophia has a particularly rotten day I pop in an Elmo video or turn on Sesame Street On Demand and she is happy as a lark for about an hour. She exercises with Elmo and dances with Elmo.

But there is only so much Elmo an adult can take.

I've tried to play up Big Bird, Cookie Monster even Grover, but none of those characters hold a candle to Elmo. I'm sure Ryan will soon be inducted into the Elmo fan club, and at that point I might as well paint my house red and wave the white flag.

Good morning!

I'm obsessed with sleep. I'm always talking about it and every night I can't wait to do it. And after last night, it looks like I may be able to stop obsessing.

We woke this morning, like every morning, to the cry of a baby, but this morning it was Sophia and this morning it was 7:30.

Last night, Ryan slept through the whole night. When we woke up and realized that neither of us got up with him, our first instinct was to make sure he was OK, but our survival instincts kicked in and we thought better than to go into his room and potentially wake him.

That lasted 15 minutes before the urge to make sure our son was still breathing became overwhelming. At 7:45 a.m., my husband tip-toed into Ryan's room and found our little boy awake and smiling. He must have slept well.

In my experience, that first full night of sleep is stressful in the morning. Instead of waking up feeling well-rested, I wake up and feel anxiety.

Sophia first slept through the night when she was one month old, and since then, with the occasional exception, she has always been a good sleeper. But even now, if we wake up before her, we have to channel all our willpower to not run into her room and check on her.

I don't want to jinx it, but I'm hoping that last night wasn't a fluke and that tonight, tomorrow night and every night after, Ryan and his big sister sleep soundly through the night. It will help everyone feel better, but it won't stop us from worrying about our kids -- I know that will never happen.