We all lose.

After a particularly miserable night of sleep, let's say I wasn't in the best of moods when Teagan woke up, bright eyed and bushy tailed before 7:00 this morning. Brandon and I can't seem to make it past 9:30 these days (how sad are we?) and knowing that Teagan is waking up multiple times a night, we embraced our lameness and our lights were out at 9:30. Heartburn woke me up and kept me awake for what seemed like most of the night, Brandon's mind was racing and wouldn't allow him to sleep and Teagan was up no less than 4 times. Finally at around 3:00, I said she could sleep with us (which is the kiss of death for a restful night). She always ends up horizontal and Brandon would rather sleep on the couch than risk waking her up prematurely. So off he went, and I was relegated to a sliver of our king sized bed and tiny, flailing hands smacking my face repeatedly. She's been getting up around 6 lately - bless Brandon's heart, he gets up with her and lets me sleep until he leaves for work - so when I looked at the clock that said 6:45 and she was still laying there, mouth agape, I thought we were in the clear to get another few minutes of precious, elusive sleep. Then some poor soul had an accident that necessitated a fire truck whizzing through the neighbourhood, sirens ablaze. While I feel terrible for whomever was in need of a fire truck, I was also prepared to cause them bodily harm myself as Teagan popped up immediately and cried, "Hear dat, Mummy? Hear dat? Fire truck!" I tried to convince her that it was still time to sleep and even had her head resting on the pillow, but she jumped up and said, "I all done." Not a great start.

Brandon looked like a zombie when we crossed paths outside our room so I sent him for some more sleep (before you get to thinking that I'm a martyr, remember that he lets me "sleep in" - that's relative now that I'm a mother - every other day and let me nap for hours last Sunday) and we headed downstairs to watch Yo Gabba Gabba.

To say she's chatty would be the understatement of the century. She always has something to say and 99% of the time, it begins with "Mummy, Mummy, Mummy!" (I saw a joke on Facebook the other day that said "Mum is my nickname. My full name is Mum Mum Mum Mum Mum Mum Mum." The truth hurts.)

She was particularly vocal this morning as I was trying to catch some more ZZZs on the couch and by the time Daddy came down the stairs I was close to losing my mind.

"Let's play the Quiet Game!" said I.

"What's quiet?" asked Teagan. Precisely.

So I explained the idea behind the game and I thought everyone was on board. Then Brandon made a move I will make him regret for the rest of his days and taught her to shout at the beginning of the game: "I lose." In my humble and exhausted opinion, we all lose.