8 Hours and 33 minutes

I laid in bed. Quiet and still for a moment. I glanced over at the clock - almost 6 a.m. and about time to get up. I kind of had to pee. My alarm was about to go off. It was way too quiet.

I whispered over to Anne..."Are you awake?"

"SHHH!!" Uhh, yeah...She was awake.

"He's been sleeping for over eight hours," I whispered with excitement.

"I know...SHHH!!" She was clearly as excited as I was.

We laid there in bed, like two kids on Christmas morning. Every two minutes I'd look at the clock. We were clearly in record territory. "Is he still breathing?" I asked. (For those of you who have never seen Collin sleep, he is the loudest sleeper I've ever heard - it sounds like something between a weed-wacker and a grizzly bear. There was no doubt he was still breathing.)

I had to pee. I had to go to work. I needed to get up and shut off the alarm before it went off...But neither of us wanted to move and upset the delicate balance that was keeping him asleep. He'd made it all night - at this point, everything else was icing on the cake.

Anne was the first to get up and open the door. That tipped the balance. He finally started to cry. I looked at the clock...8 hours and 33 minutes.

Not bad. Not bad at all.