Clash of the Titans

I should state this up front: When it comes to Jane, I'm kind of a push-over. So last night when she woke up crying at around 9, I went right in to try and settle her down. By 9:45, when it was clear she was playing me (I know because she was laughing and smiling every time I suggested she go "night-night") and had no intention of settling down unless made to, I decided to put her in her crib and flee.

Which set up the showdown. As I've mentioned before, Jane can be pretty stubborn. In fact, in our house there is only one person more stubborn than Jane. Can you guess who it is? [Hint: It's not me or Samson.]

And so it began. Jane started with outright wailing, and Vicki held firm. She quieted for a bit, and I said "well, OK, I guess that's over." Immediately she started in again. This cycle of sturm und drang punctuated with brief periods of quiet went on for at least an hour --- which was long but not a record.

But then she started calling for us. It started with "Mah-MEE, Mah-MEE," and then progressed to "Da-DEE, Da-DEE." Again, Vicki held firm. I, of course, was like this guy, ready to bust in for the rescue. But nothing doing; cooler heads (Vicki's) prevailed, noting, "She's not hurt or sick, she's just really overtired. And if we bring her into our bed, this pattern will only continue." Fair enough.

So the showdown wore on. We were at 90 minutes when Jane switched tactics. She was quiet for a bit and then played the pathetic card. She cried out for Samson. For some reason she calls him "Ta-TOO," and my resolve was sorely tested when we heard from behind her door the plaintive cries of "Ta-TOOOO; Ta-TOOOOO."

I guess that was her plan C, because it wasn't long after that Jane finally gave in and fell asleep. We were at 1 hour and 48 minutes, a new record. She slept in until 8:00 the next morning [for those of you without children, anything past 6:30 is considered "sleeping in"], so clearly she was just overtired.

The following morning she woke up all bright-eyed and cheery and ready for breakfast. I can't be sure about this, but I think I detected a kind of secret nod of admiration from Jane to Vicki, like the grudging admiration Bill "the butcher" shows "Priest" Vallon in Gangs of New York. Whatever it was, it did not make its way to the guys at the table.

Samson and I may need to move to South America for Jane's teenage years...