Last night at 2am, Katie shoved Matt at me, saying, “I need sleep, take him”. So I took him upstairs and walked in a circle with him while he was crying. I tried all my best moves. The pat on the back. The pat on the butt. Singing lots of songs, mixing up the lyrics. Lying down with Matt on my chest. Walking in a circle with Matt face in. Walking with him face out. I tried hugging him tight sideways. I tried this way and that. I tried deep voice and whisper voice. I tried it all. And at approximately 3am, he didn’t wake up screaming while lying on my chest.
Who cares if a toy was wedged into my spinal column? What difference does it make if I was lying in the shape of an S? My boy had fallen asleep. I watched him sleep for a few minutes, too scared to breathe too loud that he should wake up. I gently faded into slumber. A few minutes (hours?) later, Matt jumped up from my chest and wailed his blood-curdling scream. He needed boobie-juice and quick. (Mach Scnell!) I brought him downstairs and attached him directly to the mothership.
I crawled into bed and felt satisfied that although I may not have won the war, I won the battle. Thanks Matt, I love you.