After getting him calm in his crib, patting his back, lifting my hand gently, gently…he’s almost sleep, rolling side to side, but with eyes slightly open to see if I’m still standing there. I don’t look at him, that’s a ploy some babies use to get sympathy so they can stay up longer. You are going to bed. I’m tired.
But the bigger mission is in the escape, maintaining the still of the room requires a waltz on tiptoes dodging every creaky wood slab on a path out the room. If only it wasn’t so complicated, so technical, trying to step just light enough not to incite suspicion but quick enough to get out while I still have a chance.
I whisper a rendition of the “ABC” song (one of his favorites), “next-time-won’t-you-sing-with-me…” I pause…step…step…pause again. I step a little lighter; a little quicker…Ok, whew, I’m out (and exhausted).