Spock knows all.
Jack fell asleep on the couch during our favorite show, Big Brother. We waited about 30 minutes. We debated. I was committed to Spock's speak and encouraged Husband to put him in his crib. We decided to wait until the show was over.
Guess what? Jackie woke up the second his face felt the sheets. I tried not to let it bother me.
Instead, I went back to scrapping the layers and layers of crappy wallpaper in the downstairs bathroom (don't even talk about it).
At the time we put him down, Husband hadn't had the chance to read my entry from yesterday. He wasn't as confident in our decision to put Jack in his own bed. After about 5 minutes of Jack's tears, I heard him clomp downstairs to log on to his computer. He needed some encouragement from the Spock.
I stayed focused on my scrapping. Who invented wallpaper? I'd like to have a little chat with that genius. Jack was slowing down by this point and truthfully, I wasn't a believer in the Spock wisdom just yet.
Husband came into the bathroom after reading the article. He was shocked at how close to home Benjamin had been with our situation. He finally agreed we were doing the right thing.
I went back to scrapping. (By the way, my fingers are stiff right now. My arm stings from a lightbulb burn. And I can't shake the smell of the chemical I used to remove the paper.) Why did I think it was a good idea to start this project the Sunday before the in-laws were coming and we were going to T-town? Not sure. Really not sure. I have only hated the paper for three years.
There was a knock at the door.
"He's stopped crying,'' Husband said panicked.
"Yes,'' I replied, still scrapping. "Wasn't that the point?"
"But I think I should go check on him, what if he's hurt?"
"He's not hurt. Spock warned us about this mistake. Just hold tight. He's fine.''
I shut the door.
At this point I realized I couldn't trust that Husband wouldn't try to go upstairs. My scrapping slowed down for a while so I could spy on his activities. Just as I had begun to tackle the project again at a vigorous pace, he knocked on the bathroom door.
"I just checked on him." He said sheepishly.
"What?!"
"I just had to make sure he wasn't hurt,'' he said. "Guess what? He was sleeping!"
We were both astounded.
He stayed in bed until about 7:30 a.m. at which he climbed into bed with his daddy for a morning cuddle and bottle and slept until 10. Who knew?
(Interesting side note --
So we haven't been sleeping well because the kid keeps us up all night, right?So it makes a lot of sense that we stayed up past 1 a.m. the one night he slept in his bed -- me: scrapping; Husband:working on his book --doesn't it? One word -- morons.)
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