Family Life

Micah has an established bedtime routine. He’ll quietly sit on his own in the playpen in our office, playing with blocks and reassured by the presence of both parents sitting at their computers. This baby has separation anxiety issues. He’s OK with being on his own as long as he’s not alone, if you get what I mean.

In due course, he’ll leave the blocks, stand up, and start fussing at us. That’s my cue to pick him up, sit him on my lap, kiss him good-night, and hand him over to his mother. Then I pass him my empty coffee mug. More than anything else, the coffee mug tells Micah that yes, it’s bedtime, and he’s going to bed. He puts his little head down on Debbie’s shoulder, clutches the mug handle in one hand and waves goodbye with the other.

I’m not sure what happens after that. Presumably the mug gets rinsed off in the kitchen, and Micah gets his teeth brushed, gets prayed with and tucked into bed. I stay at my computer, the hermit alone in his cave.

The last few nights have been quiet; we’ve been spared the screaming baby at three in the morning. But we’re still wary, unwilling to relax and say those sleepless nights are a thing of the past. Nevertheless, this consistently quiet, trouble-free bedtime is a blessing and a hope of better nights ahead. Long may they continue.

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