The Ideal Time

Apparently, the ideal time for a three month old to practice her latest skill is between the hours of 10pm and 3am. Ryan has decided that the middle of the night, in her crib, is the perfect opportunity to practice rolling over.

She starts by gathering her legs up underneath her, then straightening them up. This makes her look like she’s doing baby yoga, some variation of the downward dog pose, sans arms. Then, she kind of flops to her side, where she is sidetracked by her hands. Yes, despite the fact that she discovered them weeks ago, they are still her favorite toy. Finally, she gains enough momentum to get onto her back, where she flips out, and wails for someone to come put her back on her stomach. Only to start the whole process again. Now, I’d be glad to play this little game during the daylight hours (and NOT at 4am), but someone doesn’t want to play during the day. It’s more fun to try this at night.

Then, she can’t sleep because she’s teething, and her mouth is bothering her. So we give her children’s Tylenol. Now, I ask you, why, oh why, do they insist on putting BRIGHT RED DYE in this stuff? I ask this because, number one, it stains, and number two, it never makes it in her mouth. Which mean we have BRIGHT RED stains on everything that has come into contact with this stuff: her hands, her lips, her nose, her white jammies, and everything in between. Is the BRIGHT RED DYE necessary to the healing powers of the Tylenol? I doubt it. It’s probably to make it look more appealing. To whom? My three month old? Her palate currently consists of breast milk, soon to include such highlights as pears, apples, and strained carrots. And the occasional Cheerio. I doubt she cares about the color.

But, I digress.

I finally get her back to sleep after all this nonsense, and no sooner is she back in her crib, does she let out a HUGE fart. And accompanying this huge fart, is a huge squishy poo. Followed by more squishy poo. Score. I call for reinforcements. Daddy’s turn. Michael gets her diaper changed and starts to rock her back to sleep and she spits up on herself. Not just a little bit, but really lets it go. Great. Wardrobe change. And now he’s trying to get her back to sleep, again. It’s now been an entire hour since the whole rolling over practice began.

Just when we thought we had one of those kids who slept through the night. Murphy’s Law, I suppose.

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