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Spawn of Griffith | Dear Jack ... (volume three)

Dear Jack ... (volume three)

Tuesday April 11, 2006 | by Dalia Griffith | 0 comments

This past week has been the most gratifying, and the most challenging, time together so far. First, I’ll start with the hard stuff because I want to end with the sappy gushing I’ve mastered since your birth. So here goes …

You hate to sleep. During the day, that is. You’re all good with going down at night, and staying down for the most part (except to eat, of course). But you’ve decided that a daytime nap is the enemy. So in an effort to ward it off, you’ll force yourself to stay awake, even if it means going crazy. Literally. You scream and scream, and scream some more. Even to the point of momentarily losing your voice because the level of intensity you’re trying for simply cannot be achieved by such immature vocal chords. You get so tired that your eyes puff out and just close on their own. And yet you keep screaming.

And while we’ve tried everything to convince you that sleep is the answer—feeding, changing, loving, playing, rocking, binkies—the only thing that seems to work is either putting you in the car for a drive, or sitting by helplessly while you cry yourself to sleep. Believe us, the former is much more appealing. But it’s not always feasible. So we’ve had to resort to the latter on a few occasions, and trust me when I tell you that it’s pure torture. Worse than anything I’ve ever experienced. Heart-wrenching. And I know there are many people out there who think the cry solution is cruel, but we’ve simply run out of options. You aren’t some easy-going kid who takes to stuff like car seats on the laundry machine (if it’s not an actual car that’s actually moving—idling doesn’t cut it—you’re not gonna budge) or singing, or cutesy mobiles. You’re a stubborn, hard-headed, determined little boy who’s not going down without a fight. And while these characteristics make things hard for us between noon and bed time, I can’t help but admire your tenacity. It will undoubtedly serve you well somewhere down the line, but if you could keep it in check when we need you to do something you don’t want to do, that’d be awesome. And yes, I realize that I’m the queen of wishful thinking.

Now for the good stuff. In between anti-napping rallies, you’ve started to smile and coo and laugh on a regular basis. No more of these fleeting grins—this is the real thing. And everyone who loves you is getting some. Seriously, if this is an effort on your behalf to make me forget about the sleep thing, it’s working. Because when you flash that beautiful toothless grin and squeal, it’s all over for me.

You’ve also learned how to stick your tongue out by mimicking me—smart boy!—and that’s now become our special little game. You’re so proud of the fact that you can do it, and when we stare face to face with our tongues protruding, you just get so excited—I live for those moments.

So that’s the state of things this week. You evolve so quickly it seems every day brings something new, and I’ll do my best to capture it all (or at least most of it) in these letters.