The Fusser was ascendant last night.
The wife handed off the baton around 4am and I took a few laps around the track, bleary eyed, wheezing and tripping over hastily tied laces.
He sleeps like a fire burns, in need of constant tending.
Three spots only meet his high standards of comfort- your chest, the Baby Bjorn or his buzzy chair.
Anything else earns piercing high volume scorn.
No method is perfect.
First, we're both side sleepers.
Next, you need to keep moving for the Bjorn to work. You sit down, he wakes up.
The buzzy chair is best, but requires ceaseless attention.
He'll sleep, fitfully.
Daring to lie down yourself guarantees plaintive wailing within 20 minutes.
This dismay can be short circuited if you catch it early.
He stirs, he groans- you reach out with your foot and gently bounce the chair.
He settles back into his cocoon of blankets.
This happens every 15-30 minutes for 2-3 hours.
Then his hunger and discomfort need assuaging and the ritual resets.
The silver lining is a 24 hour all-you-can-watch movie buffet.
Fusser wrangling isn't conducive to reading but does provide nearly infinite face time with the teevee.
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