the dictator

Yesterday I tried to have a conversation with Arlo about sleeping. Mostly how his sleeping needs seem to conflict with his parents sleeping needs. I told him we could meet halfway on this, maybe even 30/70, but he doesn’t seem to be a man of compromise.

That’s when I realized that babies are basically dictators. There is just no rationalizing with these things. Just look at that arm ready to swing into dictator action at any moment.


We also watched The Imitation Game last week and came to the conclusion that he’s also a baby Enigma. We’ll think we’ve cracked the code on what makes him happy or keeps him sleeping better. Then the next day he lets us know our scheming was all for naught–he’s decided he’d like something different but he’s not going to let us know what it is. It’s extra fun because I wonder if it’s something I’m eating, and subsequently ban whatever food may be the culprit from my diet.

My list included no chocolate, no cheese, no pears, low dairy and less dark greens–until I realized nothing seems to help and I drank a big mug of hot chocolate yesterday. You would know how much I’m sacrificing/wishing for a few hours of sleep at night if you understood my love for hot chocolate (I own a hot cocoa maker) and cheese (if you don’t understand a basic love for cheese we can’t really be friends).

Then after debating on purchasing yet another possible baby calming device, Tyler brought up the hypothetical of how much a sleeping baby is worth. Like what is the max you’d pay for something if you were guaranteed it would help your baby sleep? I think the amount varies depending on Arlo’s previous night antics. We opted an amount with vibrations because his brother Milo liked them.


It seemed a winner for about 20 minutes until Arlo squirmed around, opened his eyes, and cried in a tone that could probably be interpreted, “Tricked you again, suckers!”



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