I think my poor baby has a cold...or is sprouting a giant fang.
One of the two.
My mild-mannered little fella is just all kinds of not happy. And he keeps hooking his finger in his mouth. He looks like a trout caught on a line. A cute trout.
After returning from visiting family maybe he just realized that he could be held 23 out of 24 hours of the day. Now he is realizing what he has been missing the past 4 months. Yay.
Call me a bad mother, but I could sleep better on a bed of hot coals and broken glass then I can sleeping in the same room as Henry. He is so loud and squirmy. My ears are permanently tuned into Channel Henry and I can not rest. When he sleeps in his own room he can be as loud as he wants and we all sleep soundly.
Michael's mom wanted to have Henry sleep in their bedroom in the pack-and-play. And in the event he woke up in the night, she wanted to get up with him.
"If you don't mind." She actually said, "If you don't mind."
ARE YOU KIDDING ME!
I felt guilty for exactly 0.000876 seconds.
Then said, "Have at it!"
We were going to stay at Michael's grandmother's house for one night. Henry's pack and play was going to be in the office and Suzette wanted to sleep in the living room so she could hear him if he cried and get up with him.
The next morning she said that she woke up in the night and just kept counting the hours that Henry had been asleep.
She got worried that he would be too weak to cry if he got hungry...so she moved into the office to sleep next to him.
Too weak. To cry.