My wife tapped me on the shoulder, saying, “Wake up and take Mohammad. I’ve fed him and changed his diapers, but he won’t go to sleep. I’m too tired to hold him.” Somehow, I caught all of that despite the fact that I haven’t had three hours of sleep. I opened my eyes slowly. My wife had the light on her side of the bed on. It was dim, but enough to annoy my sleep-hungry eyes. But we were lucky to have electricity, a rare commodity since the Israeli bombardment of the Gaza power station 10 days earlier. My three-week-old son was in his bed, starting to wind up for a bout of crying. Read more about 2:30 AM in Gaza