Wyatt:
DUDE! HEY, OLD DUDE!

Me:
Shhhh. It’s 4 a.m. What is it?

Wyatt:
This ain’t working.

Me:
What?

Wyatt:
This. Tonight.

Me:
You were sleeping just fine.

Wyatt:
Well, now I’m pissed.

Me:
Is it your diaper?

Wyatt:
I don’t know. That’s your job. I could have a load in my shorts, I could be hungry, I could’ve had a nightmare. All I know is I’m awake, I’m tired and you’re getting all Sherlock Holmes when you should be "CSI: Miami." I HATE THIS! FIGURE IT OUT!

Me:
Keep it down. You’re going to wake your brother.

Boone:
Too late.

Me:
Damn it.

Wyatt:
You’ve got your hands full now.

Me:
No chance you’re going to drift peacefully back to sleep?

Boone:
About as much chance that I might also poop rainbows.

Wyatt:
Here’s the deal, Pop. You’ve got an incredibly small window to figure out what’s wrong before I ramp up and blow a return to slumberland.

Boone:
Ditto that.

Me:
You guys are stacking the deck here. Not only will the process of trying to figure out what’s wrong wake you up more, but I have to do it twice.

Boone:
Don’t care, dude.

Wyatt:
Not our problem... You know how, when I get really angry, I do that high-pitched shriek?

Me:
Yeah.

Wyatt:
Here it comes.

Boone:
That’s nothing. Even if you finally get him back to sleep, I’m planning on staying up until just before our normal wake-up time. Got anything good on the DVR?

Me:
I think I have some episodes of “Chuck.”

Boone:
That’ll work.