Sweet Thing was having nightmares. I went in to show my support, and she wrapped her little arms around me. I took her out to the couch and coozied with her so we didn’t wake Scout up. I made her a warmed milk bottle laced with a little medicine because I don’t really like to have a wrestling match with my daughter in the middle of the night. (Please note: she is really good at taking medicine unless it is in the middle of the night when I have to force her little lips open. Hence the bottle.) I was really disappointed when Sweet Thing decided to only hold her bottle. After 30 minutes, I tried to force feed her, but that was a real disaster. Plus I felt bad.
At this point, I heard Scout’s little feet running towards us. He had a stuffed monkey that he became obsessed with just hours before. (Usually because as I put them to bed, there is a “my toy” and “my animal” tone from Icka, so he has to claim something. This night it was the monkey.) As he came close, I told him that Icka was having a hard night, and to run along into Nonnie’s room. He started to run, but turned back and gave Icka his monkey. He said, “Mom, Icka can sleep with this monkey.” Based on his undying love for the monkey at the beginning of the night, I was so pleased with my sweet boy.
Back to Sweet Thing. She wasn’t having the bottle, and I was annoyed at this point that I hadn’t just given her medicine the old fashioned way. Icka has this really interesting thing about her. When I hold her in the middle of the night, she doesn’t just doze off into dream land. Instead, she just keeps her little eyes open and looks around. I sang to her, I rubbed her back, I held my hand on her cheek, and she just stared straight ahead, whispered “Mama” about every 45 seconds, and this particular time clenched her full bottle. As two hours had gone by, I decided it was time to take her back to bed. I laid with her for about fifteen minutes, and she finally drank about half of her bottle. Then I laid with her some more. When I realized that she wasn’t snoozing anytime soon, I had to do what I hate most. I had to let her cry it out. As I left, she wasn’t just crying, she was wailing. So I grabbed my Christmas cards and started stuffing envelopes while I watched the clock. I gave it 20 minutes until I was going to go in and get her. She was still frantic at the 10 minute mark, but by 13 minutes — silence.
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