Day 163

When I picked Miles up from daycare yesterday, his caretakers let me know he had a great day and that he even slept for two and a half hours!

Great! I thought. What a…wait…what was that last part?

Miles has pretty reliably been a good sleeper at night. Conversely, he’s a pretty lousy sleeper during the day, typically taking a handful of ten to fifteen minute naps here and there.

Two and a half hours? This didn’t bode well.

It was 11:30 that night when I was finally headed to bed that I looked down at Miles and watched his eyes open, fix on me, and…stare. And he just kept staring.

Maybe he just needs a fresh diaper, I thought, so very naively.

He did need a fresh diaper, but the process of changing it only served to further awaken him. Now he was rolling around, grunting, and trying to grab and possibly eat the bag containing his wipes. He did, at least, seem happy. I was hopeful that he would go back down without much fuss.

Well he didn’t. It wasn’t long after I gently set him back down in his Pack ‘n’ Play that he he lost interest in trying to shove his foot in his mouth, instead craving something more. A pacifier? An attempt was made, to negligible results.

I cracked the seal on one of his bottles, hoping a little midnight snack would satiate him. Two ounces, then two and a half more…and then he just kept clutching the bottle, sucking at it despite it being completely bone dry. Trying to pull the bottle from his hands proved a fool’s errand. Miles had no interest in relinquishing control of the vessel.

Fine, I thought. Keep the bottle. I set him back down in the Pack ‘n’ Play, his hands still grasping the bottle as his lips aggressively maneuvered along the rubbery tip. I sat down in bed, again hoping that he would soon fall asleep if left to his own devices.

Before that could happen, he of course dropped the bottle and, even with his considerable dexterity, could not quite retrieve it. Thus, the wailing began anew.

Exhausted, and nearing one in the morning, I looked over to Jaclyn. “Would you like to try?”

She, in fact, did not want to try, but was persuaded after I painted what I felt to be an accurate picture of her options (“Look, you can either give it a shot, or this is what we’ll be hearing until God knows what hour”). The last thing I saw as I finally drifted into unconsciousness was Miles, still wide awake, feeding in Jaclyn’s arms.

Daytime naps are the nighttime killer.

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