Monday, April 30, 2012

Only fools rush in

Dear Boy is teaching himself to resettle.


I'm no advocate of controlled crying. I am becoming more aware though that rushing in to resettle Dear Boy every time he squawks isn't helping either. Now I spend a lot of time standing at his door, my face pushed in close to the handle to try and hear what's happening on the other side. If he squawks once or twice but then rustles and mutters to himself, I try to leave him to the business of falling asleep. It's tough work but I think he's doing it. If he squawks more than a few times, when it sounds like he's calling for help and his panic is escalating, I creep in and commence the shh, shh, shhing that seems to pour out of my mouth without thinking about it.

I shh, shh, shhed Lovely Husband without thinking when his cold made him toss and turn in his sleep.

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