My husband the fiddle

In the nights since Sunday's all-night disaster, the Bug has all but returned to her normal habits. She woke up two or three times on Monday night, twice on Tuesday night, and once last night. Each time, I got up first and went in to comfort her. She did not conceal her disappointment. She cried for her Dada, arched her back when I picked her up, tried to wiggle out of my arms, and then cried some more for her Dada. I explained to her that Daddy was tired and sleeping, and that Mommy was tired, too, and I'd sing one song and we'd both go to bed. (Don't laugh; she actually requests those songs!) She'd pretty quickly assess her options, decide that laying her head on my shoulder was probably the best one, and within five minutes I'd be back in bed.

Poor little Bug - she didn't realize that her Mommy and Daddy had wised up. You see, the Bug is nobody's fool. She has, however, identified the fool. And now, she plays him like a fiddle. You see, Daddy will pick her up and cuddle for hours. Daddy will sit nearby patiently while she lies in bed awake. Daddy will run to the kitchen to get her some milk. Mommy will put her back in bed and leave the room. Further, Daddies are biologically programmed to come a-running when their baby girls cry out for them. "Mama" they can ignore; "Dada" they cannot. I can't blame the Bug for wanting her Daddy; given that choice, I would, too!

So by strategically leaping out of bed first and heading off the Daddy, I have quieted the beast. By severely reducing the Bug's reward for her mid-REM outbursts, I've made them worth less than the effort expended. The cost-benefit analysis results in a negative. It's a better use of her time to just keep sleeping. And the added benefit to Mommy? Something with which to mercilessly tease sweet Joker.