I was going to have a nice quiet evening, reading the First Things and New Republic that came this week. Of course, no deal. Because the Baby Formerly Known as The Baby Who Won't Sleep decided to reclaim the title, not, as was his previous habit, in the middle of the night, but at the beginning of the evening this time.
So, yeah, at a certain point, he threw himself into what we have know come to recognize as his pre-verbal signal of fatigue: he runs laps around the coffee table. So, of course, I cooperated.
Two and a half hours later, he's finally asleep. Not that he spent all of that time crying. Not at all. Much of it was spent lying next to me in my bed, eyes wide open, in uncharacteristic silence. I was starting to get a little annoyed when in went the little finger into the mouth and the gnawing began. Of course, I thought, deeply ashamed. More teeth. And sure enough, those bottom gums are fairly swollen. Give the kid a break. Or at least some baby Motrin.
I did get a bit of the First Things read, lying there with the baby staring at me, clearly wondering just when the hell I was going to do something to help him. Just the easy stuff, though - the letters - good responses to Neuhaus' "Scandal Time" reflections - the book reviews (a review of Terry Teachout's biography of Mencken, with an emphasis much different than Jonathon Yardley's review in...where..TNR, I guess), and the back of the book - hey, Mark - didja know he mentions you in his contribution to commentary on blogs?