In a couple of days you’re going to be four months old. On the whole, you’ve been an exceptionally well behaved kid; sleeping through the night and not fussing all that much except when you’re hungry or tired.
Lately, however, you’ve become a lot more demanding. You are no longer content to simply be held, but instead want a lot more active attention. You always want to be standing as sitting or laying down is just too boring for you. You love having Daddy fly you around the room. SuperBaby is the cutest thing, ever.
You’re quite fun to play with, of course, but when your Mummy and Daddy decide that it’s time for you to go to sleep… Well, let’s just say that you’re somewhat reluctant.
Yes, you’re kicking up all sorts of fuss when we try to put you to sleep. I think you just really like being awake and takin in all the cool new stuff that’s going on around you. There’s too much to see, too much to do. And you don’t want to miss anything, even if that means you get do overtired that your eyes start to turn purple and get huge bags under them.
However, cry all you like, you still are a miniature person at this point and you need your sleep. And it’s Mummy and Daddy’s job to make sure that you get enough.
In my rather brief experience as a father to this point, the hardest thing I have ever had to do is to put you in your crib to have a nap and leave you while you’re crying. Your voice carries, my dear Dwarfling. It pierces through walls, and right into my gut.
Walking out of the room knowing that you are not happy and content is heartbreaking. Staying out of the room is damned near impossible.
Obviously, at four months you don’t know how to make words yet, and your cries are nothing more than noises made to express your emotional state. I know this, intellectually. However, what I hear is:
DADDY! THIS IS ALL YOUR FAULT! COME AND FIX THINGS! CURSE YOUR SUDDEN BUT INEVITABLE BETRAYAL! JUST BECAUSE OF THIS I’M GOING TO RUN OFF AND MARRY A BIKER! DAAAAADDDDDDEEEEEEEEEEE!
How can anyone with a heart bear something like that?
I know that I can’t. I cave in like a traffic bridge made of wet cardboard: Quickly, quietly and completely. Your mother laughs at just how quickly I race back into your bedroom when you’re crying. It’s silly, really. I know that there is nothing wrong with you. I know that you will eventually tire yourself out and go to sleep. I know I should just invest in some earplugs and ignore it.
But I really don’t want you running off and marrying a Biker.