Today, I attempted to get my rosy-cheeked baby to bed for her afternoon nap. She screamed and screamed when I held her, when I put her in her crib, when I tried rocking her, when I tried feeding her, when I held her upright, when I kissed her forehead, when I spoke softly to her.
She only stopped long enough for me to actually convince her that she was hungry. So, she had her lunch. Then, I put her back in her crib looking drowsy. Which, according to Anna, meant "TIME TO WAKE UP!!!"
She spent the next 15 minutes cooing and babbling to herself, kicking her legs in the air and opening her eyes wider than I thought they could possibly go.
Enter Andrew. The Anna whisperer.
He took her out of her crib, brought her downstairs into our basement and sat with her on the recliner. A few minutes later, while I was up in the kitchen eating my lunch, I turned around just in time to see Andrew walking up the stairs with Anna in a slouched, yet upright position - out cold.
She fell asleep sitting up.
After he put her in her crib, I said to him "So now only you can get her down for a nap I guess." To which he so sensitively replied by looking at me and laughing in a "Neener-Neener" kind of a way.
Oh, Andrew. Silly, silly Andrew.
I was quick to tell him that I certainly didn't mind if he was the one who would spend hours on end trying to get Anna to sleep while I sat in the basement watching TV, relaxing, napping, or doing anything else that tickled my fancy at that moment.
Never "Neener-Neener" at a Mom, Andrew.