The Night Stalker

I could talk about how, when Daddy offers to read with her before bed, Siena now gets two books, hands Daddy one, and reads the other to herself. Or I could talk about how Siena now has the self-awareness to pose for cameras. But there's something else that's on my mind.

The Terrible Twos, like World War II, can be difficult to pin down in origin. But for my money, Japan invaded Manchuria last night, when Siena began to scream like a banshee at almost the stroke of midnight. She'd been suffering the last of her baby teeth pushing their way into a crowded mouth, so we'd had the screams in the night before. But this wasn't genuine, however intense she sounded. No this was her stage-cry, her "Aaaaaaaah" instead of "Waaaaaaaah!"

Nevertheless, Daddy went in to rub her back and calm her down. She asks for that now, as you lower her into her crib: "Bak." Tonight however, as soon as I stopped rubbing and began tiptoeing to the door, she'd start in again. Eventually Mama tired of hearing the screams, and asked Daddy to bring Siena into bed. Perhaps you veteran parents are laughing right now, and I am too, kinda. But last night we ahd no idea what a Big Mistake this was.

We thought that Siena might calm down and go to sleep in our bed with us. But, if you think about it, Siena has no good reason to think that a bed is for sleeping. She doesn't sleep in one. She's never seen Mama or Daddy asleep in one. No, the bed is a big trampoline for her, whenever she's in it. So what started out as an act of magnaminity ended up in ninety minutes of midget wrestling.

Eventually even Mama's patience waned, and she returned Our Little Angel to her crib. Where she screamed like wolverines were eating her toes. Daddy now had responsibility for dealing with Siena, which he did--by letting her cry for about five minutes, after which Siena abandoned her charade and went to sleep like a good girl.

Lesson learned. After midnight, don't take Siena out of her crib, and don't feed the gremlins.