The Boy has some nasty congestion this week. He's often wheezey (no, not George Jefferson's wife) and he has a very hoarse cough. I think it might be related to teething -- anything can be attributed to teething.
Anyway, as a result of his wheeze, his breathing sounds like a little bitty Darth Vader. He's still cuter than young Anniken, though.
This morning, around 5:15, his coughing led to crying. I got up and gave him a bottle, and I'm not sure that he was awake for any of it. He ate it up rather quickly and I put him back into his crib.
I've been known to talk in my sleep, and I even had occasional episodes of sleep-walking when I was a kid... but sleep-eating is a pretty unique skill.
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