For the last few weeks (if I had the desire, I could look it up, and find the exact date), Finn has been unwilling to go into his crib to sleep at night. We had a good stretch where he was sleeping pretty well, perhaps waking up once, maybe twice, but basically sleeping from 8:30 p.m. until 4:30 in the morning.
Then, one night, I could not get him into his crib. I thought it was an anomaly, and that the next night, Pete would be able to work his Sandman magic and get him back into the baby bed, but to no avail. We settled back into co-sleeping, one of us at a time, with the boy. We kept trying, kept up the front end part of our night-time routine, but that last bit was failing. I thought it was a developmental thing, or maybe due to the never-ending cycle of colds, and I thought it would change, as it had changed before.
It hasn't yet. And we have been getting periodic lectures from day care, and then there's the holiday travel, and then there's me, being the one who thinks that he's a baby, and if he wants me or Pete, isn't that what's supposed to happen? He's a baby.
It's Friday night. Extras from "Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince" are looping in the background. It's Pete's birthday weekend, and I know he was hoping for some adult contact with his spouse, but he's in consoling the boy, and I am here. With you. We got him into the crib, but he woke up an hour and a half later, like old, old times. We let him fuss for almost ten minutes. It did not get much worse, but it certainly did not get better, and Pete went in to get him.
Perhaps we should have waited longer, and no doubt, others would agree, and perhaps we will get to the point where we can. Goodness knows, ten minutes is the longest we have lasted, and if I were not here, Pete would probably last longer, but maybe not. It's not our goal to let him cry it out, anyway. At least, it's not my goal. It is our goal to tackle this after the holidays. The exact plan is yet-to-be-specified.
Perhaps it involves me being somewhere else entirely for a week.