Crying, LOUD.
I run into the room. She doesn't usually wake up at night anymore, and it's the kind of sad, hurt crying that you run to - not walk.
By the time I get into the room, though, she's quiet.
Me: "What's going on? What's the matter? What do you need?"
Naomi: "I'm tired!"
Me: "Okay, I'm here now; it's okay. You just go back to sleep."
And she did.
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