Apparently Ike has received my childhood sleepwalking trait . . . OH DEAR!
"Wyatt," he called out. "Wyatt?"
"Wyatt's not here," I said as I lay in bed.
"Mommy?" he tried instead. "Mommy?"
"I'm in bed."
In walked our bright eyed boy with his hair going every direction . He looked at Bill and said nonchalantly, "I need to talk to my Mommy."
Playing along, we had a nice conversation while I made him a little bed on the floor. Once he hit that pillow he was out again.