I did get to watch Lost. We had a nice night, after all: lots of playing with stuff, walking around the house... we watched "Baby Songs - The Dance Show," and he let me nap for fifteen minutes to recharge the batteries. He started getting sleepy at around 8, so I made a critical mistake: I started the bedtime routine. Teeth, vitamins... although he initiated the teeth thing, by standing at the sink and saying, "Teeesssss.... Teeeesssss..." which I interpreted correctly. Interestingly enough, for the first time in a while, he let me help with the tooth brushing. He then started wandering the house (you know, that whole wandering the desert thing... it's in his genetics...), but he came back when I yelled, "TB... vitamins!"
He loves his vitamins. I don't get it.
Soon after, I put on Goodnight Moon, and we cuddled up in bed together. This was the point where he pitched a fit. Like, major one... after he pushed me away (three times - I did try to calm him down twice), he wandered the house crying at things. He didn't do anything out of anger - just kind of stood in different places and cried. Eventually, he came to me, I picked him up, and he snotted up the shoulder of my shirt. I turned him around and he fell asleep on my lap pretty quickly. That's when Lost started.
I brought him into bed and brought the computer in to do some schoolwork - Grade Rubrics for my students. The Wife came home, and we realized that we hadn't done the nupagen shot. He didn't wake much, just came to consciousness, grabbed his leg, yipped a bit, and settled back down. We got lucky.
My wife's point: "We really don't want to do it again. He has enough nightmares." Ugh. You're not kidding.
So, here I sit, on my bed, getting pushed off by my sleeping baby. It's never boring.
The new experiment: more bedtime rituals. Less television.