The middle of the night. My house. I spent almost 2 full hours trying to get Badness to go back to sleep in his crib, 2 hours of crying, of nursing, of lying on the floor beside his crib holding his hand through the bars. 2 hours in which, innumerable times, his eyes would close, his body still, his breathing become slow and regular while slowly I would count. If I could get to a hundred, it would be safe to leave. Innumerable times I got to about 84 and he would force himself to sit up and resume the fight. Finally, after almost 2 hours, I gave in. I needed to sleep, I needed him to sleep. I held his body to mine and lay down with him on the double bed in his room. For a moment his body shuddered as the crying ceased. We lay still, together, at peace.
And then....the boy sat straight up, looked at me in the moonlight, gave me a smile worthy of the angels, and stuck his right hand straight up in the air. High Five!
"Nice try, buddy, but it isn't going to happen. You may have won but this time I wasn't playing on your team."
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