Winning the Battle, Losing the War

It was a hard-fought battle. We went the full 15 rounds. I thought the ref was going to call it. Actually, I contemplated calling the ref. But she was at a movie and I did not want to bother her. After all, I am old enough. I can take it.

Drew took it to the very end. I had to outwit him with a sly maneuver. I had been rocking him in my arms and he was used to that motion, so he knew he could fight it. Each pass gave him new strength. It was as if he had his foot tied to a rope that was suspending him over a chasm and as he swung himself to the bank on the side, he gathered more and more strength and willpower. He knew that any moment he could get there. After about 25 minutes of this same motion, I plopped down on the rocking chair and switched directions. He didn't have a chance. He was out so fast. But I think he will be ready for that next time...

I couldn't believe his staying power though. Halfway through, I held him up on my shoulder and he suddenly stopped crying. So I held him up in front of me as he stood there for a second. He looked at me and smiled, his eyes wide open. He was challenging the authority I had. He was saying that he could make it. He could stay awake all night. Then, a minute later he was back to crying again.

I appreciate his enthusiasm, but if this gets longer and longer, what do we do? I am going to run out of my bag of tricks. Actually, I think I am already out.