After slamming me in the eye with the cordless phone (saw stars)...
After tossing and turning for about 20 minutes...
After trying to put him in his own bed and having him become absolutely hysterical...
After trying a bottle...
After calmly rationalizing with him...
After trying to be stern ...
Jack decided he wanted to go downstairs and watch TV until 3:30 a.m.
Remote in hand, the not-even-one-year-old-king-of-the-house sat on the couch flipping the channels for more than two hours.
Flip. Flip. Flip.
I slept because I had to get to work by 8 a.m. and it was already after 1 a.m. by this point. And honestly, after getting slammed in the face I needed a break.
Husband sat up with him, in the dark, praying he would nod off.
Flip. Flip. Flip.
1 comment:
That staying up on the couch and flipping through the channels thing is exactly what his dad used to do at my house on Gunson Street.
I would pray for him to nod off, but he never did. He just sat there surrounded by a fence of empty beer bottles, falling asleep with his shoes on only after I ran to the Quality Dairy for a round of 7 a.m. frozen burritos.
A chip off the old block, I guess.
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