January 27, 2009 by skwishface
My son is an excellent ambassador for his kind.
As a baby, he was calm and easy-going, only cried when his needs weren’t being met and stopped crying the instant they were. I can recall exactly one night spent pacing the halls with a baby in my arms to soothe away inexplicable piercing shrieks. We’ve never had to use baby Orajel to ease his teething, because it’s just never been anything so bad that a cold teethy toy couldn’t cure it. A perpetually cheerful and charming boy, he is responsible for convincing more than one couple in our acquaintance that they should have kids. Results have been mixed.
He started sleeping through the night at three months old, and has been a champ at it ever since. Just this past weekend, we dismantled his crib and hid it, leaving him with only his big boy bed to sleep in. He was a little confused, but just seemed to shrug and accept it. It helped that my mom was in town, and more than willing to hang out with The Boy until the REM cycle claimed him. There were a few falls out of bed, which I found amusing and he found TRAGIC, but strategic placement of preventative measures has curttailed further incident. Ultimately, after just a few days he now has no trouble sleeping in his big boy bed, getting himself back into said bed, and basically being a rock star about the whole process.
There is NO WAY IN HELL that my daughter is going to be this easy. Lightning does not strike twice. Not even cute, charming, laid-back lightning.