But now we have become intimate friends with 3:30 a.m. This is the time my sons thinks is 7 a.m. - time to wake up and greet the world. After only a few nights of hearing a horrible screeching scream from our child at this time, we knew it was time to get up.

So 3:30 a.m. has become a part of our family schedule - we know this is the time we will be jolted from a peaceful slumber, never to see it again until the next night. And then last week we got a surprise.

At promptly 3:30 a.m., I woke up. Apparently, my body did not think I could take too many more heart-stopping screams snagging my mind away from dreamland, so I woke up in anticipation.

I curled myself into a ball as I awaited the impending sonic blast that my son reserves for just such an occasion.

But there was nothing.

The clock got to 3:32 a.m. and I started to worry.

I tried to do that super-human hearing trick everyone has tried when they want to hear a sound in a perfectly quiet house. Still nothing.

I had to get up, if I really wanted to investigate. But it was a little chilly, so I waited a few more minutes for signs of my child's shrill scream. Still nothing.

Finally I got up and checked on him. I poked my head under the canopy of his cradle with a little trepidation. I guess I was expecting him to try a new trick and wait until I least expected it before he let loose with his acoustical assault on my ears.

But it never came. All I heard were the wonderful rhythmic sounds of his breathing. It brought back memories of all those times when I used to make those wonderful sleeping sounds at 3:30 a.m.

Secure in the knowledge that my son was perfectly safe, as well as the fact that I was sure he would be waking and screaming any minute, I returned to bed to enjoy those final moments under some toasty covers.

As I slipped back into bed, my wife woke up - startled.

"Oh no, is he OK?"

"He's fine. He's sleeping."

"What? Doesn't he know it's 3:30 a.m.?" my wife asked because - as I said before - life in our house is just a bit messed up.

"Yes, apparently, he does. And he is sleeping. Go back to sleep," I said.

We both rolled over and pretended to nod off. But we were both thinking the same thing: Something must be wrong.

Well, technically, my wife was probably thinking that I had not accurately assessed my son's condition and she would wait until I fell back asleep so she could check on him herself without offending me.

Either way, neither one of us slept. We just lay there and waited for him to wake up screaming. One hour. Two hours. Three hours and it was finally time for us to wake up.

And our son screamed! It was a glorious sound. It meant two things: our son was OK, and he had finally slept through the night for the first time.

My wife and I were so happy - and so tired.

I made sure I told everyone at work. And they all said, "Oh, it must feel so good to finally get some sleep."

My wife and I are still waiting for the sleep part. We still wake up a little nervous around 3:30 a.m. This is obviously part of a parent's evolution because when I was in high school and I came home late, my parents always woke up at that exact same moment.