Dot writes: I didn’t want to jinx our chances by mentioning it too early, but we’re having another go at sleep-training Frank. This time Hugh and I are spending three nights at my colleague Helen’s house (thanks, Helen, your generosity is greatly appreciated) while Ken attends to the small one as he copes with being exiled to a cot in Hugh’s room. “Controlled crying” (where you leave the child in the room and return at set intervals to remind him you’re not dead) doesn’t seem to work on Frank; on Friday night Ken gave up after an hour of hysterical rage showed no signs of giving way to sleep and opted for the La Leche League-approved technique of staying with him until he dropped off. Last night Frank slept from 7.30 to 10 and again from maybe 10.45 to 6am, with comforting from Dad in the interval. So we are optimistic. It may be a while before we completely eliminate the 10pm waking, but there are worse times of night to be soothing a baby.
Meanwhile at Helen’s house Hugh has been sleeping in a cot again. He wasn’t wild about this on Friday, when he arrived there awake. It’s amazing how many devices a two-year-old can find to delay the moment of snuggling down (“I need a blanket. A nother blanket. Not that blanket, the blue blanket. No, the nother blanket. No, the blue blanket. I need milk” etc etc). Last night was better, however. He woke about 2am and wanted lullabies, but afterwards slept until 6.30, when he sat up and announced “OK, I’m finished. We find Daddy?” By Tuesday night, when it will be time for Hugh and me cautiously to resume our customary beds, he’ll probably be quite settled in at Helen’s.