Postscript:

Fast-forward to this morning. I'm creeping down the stairs at 5:50 and hit the creaky last step. Frozen in position, I hear a big yawn from Cash's room, some rustling around, and the sound of his arm sliding through the slats of his crib to slam his door shut. Apparently, I was disturbing his beauty rest — I am now back from the gym and he's still resting comfortably. I'm sorry...did you turn 13 after I put you to bed last night?