Victory for Little Brother

This morning we had another example of how the smallest person in the house rules the roost. He has always been great sleeper, so we never really had to train him to self soothe, or do any controlled crying. He just naturally started sleeping through the night, hoorah, hoorah, until he just naturally stopped. Ooh. He also never took the bottle but I thought - Great ! - don't need to bother with all that 'I am cow, hear me express' drama. So now he is waking in the night, not taking a bottle, and at 12 months old way too smart - he knows his rights when it comes to boobitary access. He doesn't wake every night, but he sure lets us know when he does.

Big Brother discovered his thumb very early on - before he was born I would say, and he has had a committed monogamous relationship with it ever since. And it has been wonderful, where ever he goes he has his inbuilt comforter literally at arm's length. No pieces of cloth or increasingly dogged eared sacred bunnies to be prised off him and washed repeatedly until they are a mere memory of lint on the dryer's filter.

No such luck again for Little Brother. He is a pure-ist, and likes to go the the purest source of all - Mother as Nature intended. Never mind she is out of the new baby sleep deprivation zone, never mind its freezing the in middle of the night, its the boob or nothing for this wee nocturnal possum.

This morning Little Brother woke at 1 am, and I fed him. As usual. And he woke at 4.30am. Same again. I am waiting for the 'strength to wean him' to shower on me from above one day while hanging out the washing. Or for my Mum to come visit and take him out to the sleep-out and wean him for me. Whichever happens first I don't mind but this morning was not the day. Trouble is he wouldn't settle even after getting the good stuff at 4.30, so he was replaced in bed with a firm instruction ' Its night time still darling, go back to sleep'.

And he did not take it kindly. He roared, roared, sobbed and yelled all manner of baby obscenity. Eventually we gave in and his darling daddy went and got him. He might be teething, we successfully fooled ourselves into reasoning.

He latched on, sucked a bit and fell asleep. Victorious again, I could imagine him thinking, and they call me the sucker!