sleep
I shouldn’t complain because I slept, intermittently, seven hours last night, but he hasn’t slept more than five minutes today and now it’s after 4. We woke at 8 and went for an hour walk with him strapped to me, and he slept for that. Then we took him to his craniosacral therapy session to try to help him use his tongue more efficiently, and then we went to officially look inside several houses in town that might inspire us to move, and in each house he fussed and cried while I rocked him and nursed him and shushed him as we walked through these houses and tried to picture our lives inside of them. This is the room that you’ll play in, Henry, and this is the yard that could be yours. Then I nursed him as we ate our lunch, but he still didn’t sleep. So I nursed him as we researched houses by our fireplace, but he still didn’t sleep, until I was raw and Steve took over and walked him at last to sleep. Steve put him in his chair, I took this picture
and he woke within a minute. Now Steve is walking him again in the dining room, circles and circles around the table, playing the Pixies on the stereo, which seems to work. For me, what works is singing to him “Three Blind Mice” because it’s so sad and aggressive, their tails chopped off and their blindness and the harmony of the tune with an absent melody. My new favorite sound is the house quiet, Steve walking Henry to sleep, the floor boards creaking underneath his feet here and there in circles.
