I know I said I wouldn’t. But if I don’t talk about it, I don’t have anything to talk about.
And anyway, the rule I set up was that unless his, you know, VARIED, from the previous two posts, I was going to give the topic a rest.
Be careful what you blog about.
That night, he performed The Magnificent Act for nine hours straight, no waking.
Cool, huh? Sure, yeah.
But the nap strikes continue, albeit intermittently.
Last night, after we put him down in the crib, he not just cried, but SCREAMED, at the TOP OF HIS LUNGS, NONSTOP, for 25 minutes before submitting to the land of nod.
He sounded mad. Reallllllly mad.
As I sat and listened to him I thought, this is it. This is the cry I’m going to hear from now on for the rest of my life every time he has to do something he doesn’t want to do. This is his cry of resistance. This is how tantrums sound.
Power to the (little) people (with big lungs).
And, yes, later last night he woke up again, but only once.