Tagged: Cry It Out Method
Booger Than You
I don’t mean to brag, but my family is booger than yours. In fact, I would even venture to say we are the boogest.
As my wife so eloquently put it:
We have enough boogers in this house to fill a pool.
The Black Plague entered our home two weeks ago as a deceivingly slight discomfort in my wife’s throat the day before the Twins’ First Birthday Party EVER Extravaganza, and while this pivotal moment in American History was an overwhelming success, she was sadly not able to enjoy the festivities to her fullest capacity, as Mount Saint Mucus erupted mid-“Happy Birthday to You.”
Yes, that’s right. The Twins are now one year old. I intended to announce this with much more electronic fanfare and Michael-Bay-esque explosions, chronicling the event more extensively than the Royal Wedding for you, O Loyal Reader (as I am certain the mere mention of it now has you trembling in anticipation) but the Plague had other plans. My head is buried in the haze of infection, so a coherent reflection on the first year of fatherhood will have to wait.
Why Crying It Out Does Not Work in Our House: A Haiku
If one cries it out,
the other wakes and joins in.
And the plot thickens.
. . .
I’m thrilled this method has worked for your only child, but when I say I’ve been up half the night, I’ll thank you to remember these simple, catchy 17 syllables instead of being one of the dozens asking if I’ve tried it.