Turnabout

I had a hellish night last night with N. I suspect now (with the benefit of sleep) that she had no interest in nursing, she just didn’t want to sleep in the bouncy seat next to the bed where we’ve nestled her most nights. But at 3am I was in tears with the desire to buy some Nyquil, find a motel room, and sleep for three days.

J was working this afternoon, so I decided I better wear out Q. We took out his trike and chat about triking to the playground at the school next door. Ten feet from our driveway, he stops and tells me, “I’m done.” Um, what? He tells me he wants to just go for a drive. I still want to wear him out. So he and I negotiate and agree to go to the Essex playground, a lovely shady playground with better equipment.

We get there, he plays lacksadaisically for 5 minutes, tops, then says, “Are we done?” I tried to engage him in playing, but he wasn’t having any of it. Laughing (I mean, can you force a toddler to play?), I drove home. I took a long route home. As we got onto familiar roads, Q says quietly, “Don’t go home.” So I give up and drive a little around town. He finally agreed that we should go home, watch ‘In the Night Kitchen’ and then do a quiet time.

Quiet time was three blissful hours of sleep. Afterwards we ate and tried triking to the playground next door again. As we turn onto the school road, he looks up and points out the crescent moon. “That moon is a watermelon.”

I have no idea where that idea came from.