Beaten
Ryan had babbled and played in his crib all through his nap time on Saturday, so he was done gone good by dinner time, and asleep by 7:35. Unprecedented! If we had a working television not in the garage in this house, I'd have watched it!
Sunday was rainy all day, as the aftermath of Tropical Storm Barry lumbered through. Put a damper on our plans to go take the dogs over to Dad's for a change, but we invited him over later for a soak in the hot tub and supper. He even read books with his grandson, trying for a while to get him to sleep, but he (Ryan) wasn't near as tired as Saturday --despite trying all afternoon to teach him how to jump, for which gravity was not cooperative, though the muse of comedy was, as we cracked up to watch him squat, grunt, get the arms back, and exPLODE UP ... to a standing position, sometimes jogging forward a couple steps from all that thrust and vector, big smile on his face.
I spelled Grandad around 7:45, then told Ryan I'd be back as I went to go let the dogs out. I crept back upstairs and peeked through the door, watching as he pointed at pictures in books and talked to himself, especially pleased when he would find two of the same thing, nodding to himself all the while. So cute.
I tried to put him down in his crib and leave, and he only cried for a second, but he just wouldn't fall asleep. Blah blah blah, rassle rassle rassle, wander wander wander. I tried to sneak back up and close his bedroom door so we could all sneak past and go to bed, but he caught me reaching for the doorknob ("Daddooo!"). So I went in there with him, tried to rock him for a bit, but he was still jazzed, placing the pads of his feet on my nose for fun. So I put him down again, and just got on the floor next to the crib to keep him company, which is all he seems to want. Blah blah blah, he said, slapping on the different channels of his musical aquarium, throwing his stuffed animals around...it's 9:45... I pulled his little stuffed bear off his rocking chair and put it under my head to just try and get comfortable and lie still.
Next thing I know, it's 11. Ryan's out, snoring, head up against his woowoo like a pillow. I'd probably been asleep over an hour, and Ryan probably went down right after.
Pretty soft, that bear.
Sunday was rainy all day, as the aftermath of Tropical Storm Barry lumbered through. Put a damper on our plans to go take the dogs over to Dad's for a change, but we invited him over later for a soak in the hot tub and supper. He even read books with his grandson, trying for a while to get him to sleep, but he (Ryan) wasn't near as tired as Saturday --despite trying all afternoon to teach him how to jump, for which gravity was not cooperative, though the muse of comedy was, as we cracked up to watch him squat, grunt, get the arms back, and exPLODE UP ... to a standing position, sometimes jogging forward a couple steps from all that thrust and vector, big smile on his face.
I spelled Grandad around 7:45, then told Ryan I'd be back as I went to go let the dogs out. I crept back upstairs and peeked through the door, watching as he pointed at pictures in books and talked to himself, especially pleased when he would find two of the same thing, nodding to himself all the while. So cute.
I tried to put him down in his crib and leave, and he only cried for a second, but he just wouldn't fall asleep. Blah blah blah, rassle rassle rassle, wander wander wander. I tried to sneak back up and close his bedroom door so we could all sneak past and go to bed, but he caught me reaching for the doorknob ("Daddooo!"). So I went in there with him, tried to rock him for a bit, but he was still jazzed, placing the pads of his feet on my nose for fun. So I put him down again, and just got on the floor next to the crib to keep him company, which is all he seems to want. Blah blah blah, he said, slapping on the different channels of his musical aquarium, throwing his stuffed animals around...it's 9:45... I pulled his little stuffed bear off his rocking chair and put it under my head to just try and get comfortable and lie still.
Next thing I know, it's 11. Ryan's out, snoring, head up against his woowoo like a pillow. I'd probably been asleep over an hour, and Ryan probably went down right after.
Pretty soft, that bear.
posted by Dan at 7:51 PM
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