A few weeks ago, I discovered that my daughter doesn’t think I sleep. Because I am out of bed every day by 4:30 and back in bed well after she has gone to sleep, Clara has never even seen me lying in bed.
At the time, I explained to her that I sleep. I just go to bed late and wake up before most people.
I thought she believed me.
Last night I was reading a book to my daughter called Chicken Bedtime is Really Early. In it, the hamsters stay awake all night while the rest of the animals sleep.
“Hamsters must be nocturnal,” my daughter said.
“I think so,” I said.
“And the other animals like the sheep and the cows are diurnal,” she said.
“I think you’re right.”
“And I’m diurnal,” she said. “And so is Mommy and Charlie.”
“You’re right. But what about me?”
“You’re…” She paused. Looked at me. Squinted her eyes. Tilted her head. “You’re no-urnal, because you don’t sleep. Like trees.”
I’m like a tree. No-urnal.
I’m going to have to jump back in bed one of these mornings to knock this idea that Daddy doesn’t sleep out of her mind. While I would love that to be my super power, my actual super powers do not include the ability to avoid sleep altogether.
