Rock a Bye Baby... or not

My husband and I pondered the question a few nights ago, is irony really necessary when dealing with an infant?

Anyone who's ever had a baby knows it can take up to an hour (even longer if they have to poop) to gently rock and lull an infant to sleep before resting them gently down (like a live stick of dynamite) into their crib and running quietly from the room (like an escape convict from prison).

However, in a sick twist of what I consider terrorism against parents, it takes just seconds for a baby to drift off into a deep, peaceful slumber while strapped to Daddy in a Baby Bjorn with his four year old sister performing her own version of Stevie Nicks' "You Can Talk To Me" with her purple microphone and Tinkerbell sunglasses while dressed in a Little Mermaid bathing suit and gold sparkly princess shoes that sound like a galloping horse on a hardwood floor.

And naturally, this happened at 6:00, which is about the worst time for him to take a nap because it jeopardizes his (hopeful) 8:00 bedtime.

At the same time, I was burning grilled cheese sandwiches on the stove and opening every window on the first floor of our house. I told my husband to put Punkin in the bouncy on the kitchen table thinking the cool evening air would wake him up.

It didn't.

Nor did he wake up as we ate dinner around him at the same table while Peach's musical stylings switched from Stevie Nicks to Wang Chung's "Everybody Have Fun Tonight," and eventually Britney Spears' "Party in the USA."

As dinner drifted into bath time he finally stirred to Peach's excitement over some new bubble bath (the bath time coercion method of the evening) and complained about a wet diaper. After a quick change and the warm up of the evening's (first) bottle, my husband took him up to his room to coax him to sleep.

At 8:30, after tucking Peach into bed, I came downstairs to find both Babe (my husband) and Punkin on the couch (with a fresh evening bottle) watching Denzel Washington's "Man on Fire." I gently suggested that the sounds of rapid gunfire and explosions might not be the ideal way to lull a baby to sleep. Begrudgingly, Babe went back upstairs where he stayed for an hour trying to help Punkin drift into unconsciousness.

Which he did... eventually... the good news is he slept until 6:00 the next morning.

In another form of terrorism against parents, the following evening he woke up three times.