Sam has been sleeping very well at night. He’s been sleeping somewhere between eight and eleven hours in a row. Which has been heaven for the parent-types.
Last night, though, he did not have a good night. I brought him up when we all went to be at 10:30 and he wasn’t ready to sleep. So after some squawking in bed with us, I slipped him downstairs so Rob could sleep. Sam and I read books: Mike Mulligan and the Steam Shovel, Baby Animals, Goodnight My Duckling, Brown Bear Brown Bear twice. Yes, he can sit through all of those books. (In fact, he will turn the pages of Brown Bear Brown Bear, which I think is fabulous.) Anyway, I digress.
When he started rubbing his eyes, I whisked him (gently) upstairs and put him in his crib. We did our routine of holding hands and me whispering quiet things to him. Then I said, “Goodnight, Sam,” and left the room. He was quiet for a while and then the grunting started. And it turned to crying. And then wailing. (He does cry now, for those of you who thought he wasn’t human.) 🙂 I know that cry. That’s the “I’mHungryFeedMeNOW!” cry. So I fed him. And he feel asleep. I put him back in his crib. And he opens his eyes and starts kicking his legs and flailing his arms like he’s trying to escape a fate worse than death (which could only be watching “America’s Got Talent” over and over again). I leave him there, like the good mommy that I am, and go back to bed. He’s quiet for a while. And then…
Grunty baby returns. I leave him there to put himself to sleep. I must have fallen asleep because next thing I know, I hear Rob on the monitor, whispering to him. And that was it. Rob broke him like a wild horse.
This morning, he told me his secret: he turned off the fan.