The pitter-patter of success, and defeat

It was a hard-won battle, or so we thought.

Since moving into our new home, Avi has formed a night-time habit of snuggling in mommy and daddy's bed. Night after night. Attempts to soothe her back to sleep and lay her down in her own bed have been fruitless, and the fog of the night made a bed-time buddy an easy, cozy alternative to fruitless soothing attempts.

It worked, until it didn't. "Don't wake the baby" became our silent morning mantra, as Delton and I lay quietly in bed, watching the sun peek around the shades, watching our good intentions of early morning rising fade. "Don't wake the baby," who slept peacefully inches from both of us.

And so last night we battled. In the middle of our sleep, cries woke us up. "No more" was our new mantra, and so for an interminable time, Delton and I, one by one, tramped back and forth from our room to hers. Soothing. Settling. Encouraging. Then came the intervals of tears, as we lay sleepless in our bed and she lay furious in hers.

Then, moments of silence in between the tears. Hope rose in our sleepy hearts. We had drawn a line, and she had finally folded...

And then we heard it. The pitter-patter of little feet, the triumphant face of a precious princess carrying both her blankets in triumph. Out of her room, through her brother's room, into the hall, and straight to mommy's side. What could we do? This was a first, but most likely not a last, use of a newly formed skill.

I reached down, drew her into bed, and the three of us, snuggled warmly in our double bed, slept again in the nighttime quiet.