Just Like Ole Times

Last night hit 1am, and I was tired of waiting for the Monkey to wake up. So I decided to take matters into my own hands: I woke him up unbidden, changed his diaper, and fed him a bottle.

But like a colleague said about his daughters, sleeping takes the years off them. Or as Tom Waits said, "you're innocent when you dream."

He barely stirred when I picked him up, and didn't open his eyes after that. I changed him, and he didn't kick or fuss or anything. As I moved his arm to pick him up off the changing table, it was light as a feather and offered no resistance. I fed him a bottle, and he drank it in long, steady draughts. Until the last few, when he would rest between draughts and let the milk slowly flow into his satisifed body. I laid him down in his crib, and he stayed asleep.

It reminded me of how he was when he was much younger, although only a few months ago.