The toddler had a pretty severe case of jet lag. The angel child who usually slept for about eleven hours each night would be put to bed at her normal time, and after a couple of hours sleep, would wake up and cry. After some crying and some soothing, she would go back to sleep, and then the entire cycle would be repeated, all through the night. The son and daughter-in-law were not happy. She had hardly slept on the flight, and so they couldn't sleep then either, and now she was neither sleeping herself, nor letter her parents sleep. It was not a happy situation.
Four days into their vist, the youngsters had a party to attend. They would leave early in the evening, and return the next morning. Given that the previous night had been a night from hell, they were not feeling very chipper, but hoped to eventually catch some toddler-free sleep at their friends' home. They slipped out of the front door, evading detection, but our smart little detective soon realized that her parents were missing. She went to the front door and screamed, but the RE and I managed to distract her, soothe her, and feed her.
Bath time was great fun, as was story time. At a little past seven, I sent a trimphant message to my son. He wished me luck!
Modern babies, or should I say parents, are high tech. folks. We had been taught how to start the baby monitor. After an early dinner and some quiet TV watching, the RE and I retired for the night, with the monitor at my bedside. We had barely dosed off when the monitor squawked- our grandchild was crying. We waited for a few minutes, as instructed, and I went to the nursery (the fond grandfather's office has been closed for the duration and adapted to the toddler's requirements) and tried to soothe the child. It seemed simpler to bring her to our bed. She was happy enough, admiring the pa(n)khaa, the ceiling fan above our bed, and talking to her doyee (doggie), whom she was holding on to. After a while, though, once we had switched off the light, she tried getting out. Since we were on each side of her, the young lady tried to climb out of the quilt from the centre, which seemed a rather dangerous activity in the dark. I thought it safer to put her back in her crib. I took her back to the nursery, put her in her crib with Doggie, patted her and left. And, mercifully, she slept.
Two hours later, she wakes up again. Bringing her to our bed didn't seem to be a viable option. The desperate parents had put a mattress on the floor of her room, so that whoever was on baby shift could get some sleep. (The minute they brought her to their bed, she'd want to play). It made sense to just be in the room with her, rather than march across the whole house in the watches of the night. Sleeping on the floor wasn't brilliantly comfortable, but some sleep was better than none. If the baby cried in her crib, I'd pick her up and cuddle her, and sometimes she'd sleep, sometimes she'd try and wander off in the dark, which was unnerving, so I'd pop her back into her crib. We did this several times through the night. Each time I flipped open my phone to check the time, the young lady would admire the pa(n)khaa. When I took her out of her crib at around 6.30 a.m., she toddled off to the window and pulled back the curtain very dramatically, as if to say,
" Look- it's daylight now. Do not try and make me sleep anymore, Grandma."
I had no intentions of doing so. I was quite happy taking her out-thide the room!
Bath time was great fun, as was story time. At a little past seven, I sent a trimphant message to my son. He wished me luck!
Modern babies, or should I say parents, are high tech. folks. We had been taught how to start the baby monitor. After an early dinner and some quiet TV watching, the RE and I retired for the night, with the monitor at my bedside. We had barely dosed off when the monitor squawked- our grandchild was crying. We waited for a few minutes, as instructed, and I went to the nursery (the fond grandfather's office has been closed for the duration and adapted to the toddler's requirements) and tried to soothe the child. It seemed simpler to bring her to our bed. She was happy enough, admiring the pa(n)khaa, the ceiling fan above our bed, and talking to her doyee (doggie), whom she was holding on to. After a while, though, once we had switched off the light, she tried getting out. Since we were on each side of her, the young lady tried to climb out of the quilt from the centre, which seemed a rather dangerous activity in the dark. I thought it safer to put her back in her crib. I took her back to the nursery, put her in her crib with Doggie, patted her and left. And, mercifully, she slept.
Two hours later, she wakes up again. Bringing her to our bed didn't seem to be a viable option. The desperate parents had put a mattress on the floor of her room, so that whoever was on baby shift could get some sleep. (The minute they brought her to their bed, she'd want to play). It made sense to just be in the room with her, rather than march across the whole house in the watches of the night. Sleeping on the floor wasn't brilliantly comfortable, but some sleep was better than none. If the baby cried in her crib, I'd pick her up and cuddle her, and sometimes she'd sleep, sometimes she'd try and wander off in the dark, which was unnerving, so I'd pop her back into her crib. We did this several times through the night. Each time I flipped open my phone to check the time, the young lady would admire the pa(n)khaa. When I took her out of her crib at around 6.30 a.m., she toddled off to the window and pulled back the curtain very dramatically, as if to say,
" Look- it's daylight now. Do not try and make me sleep anymore, Grandma."
I had no intentions of doing so. I was quite happy taking her out-thide the room!
