If I had followed the pediatrician’s advice and that from various books and NOT gone into his bedroom at 9pm, when he’s usually snoozing, but ignored his vocal exercise and let him “work it out” and “self-soothe” himself back to sleep, I would not have known (not having a video monitor anymore because we gave it away when he was 18 months or so thinking that at any moment and certainly by now, at 22 months, we wouldn’t need it because our precious petunia would be sleeping through the night—!!!), I WOULD NOT HAVE KNOWN that he had ripped off his diaper and tossed it out of his crib and was actually a total nudey butt. Had I not gone in to check on his indignant cries, I would have experienced horrible drama at 3 in the morning, no doubt, one involving the stripping of crib sheets and pads and changing a screaming toddler as I struggled to remember how to pull the tabs open on a diaper and administer Desitin. Had I not gone in, I would not have thwarted disaster. More importantly, I would have ignored a little person desperately trying to tell Mama and Dadda: People who take care of me! I have ripped off my diaper! There is cool air flowing around my privates! I may pee!
I entered his room with a sippy cup. He took it from me, swigged with gusto, pressed the “play” button on his crib’s lullaby-maker and lay down. Awwww, I thought, bending over and rubbing his back. He just needed a drink, I thought, then noticed my left bare foot was standing on something that felt soft and odd and just then my hand glided down to the nudey butt. As I bundled him into a freshie diaper (and, this time, pajama bottoms OVER the diaper), I noticed in the half-light that he was staring at me. “Mama,” he said with conviction and I assured him he was absolutely right. He lay down and was out in seconds.
Having grown up with a fear of authority due to living in England in the 1970’s and being subjected to teachers that spanked with plimsoles—spanked hard—when children misbehaved, questioning authority has come slowly to me. But over the years, sometimes dragged kicking and screaming into it by my husband’s support and insight, I have learned to listen to my gut more than my head. As I lie in bed type type typing away, our toddler snoozing for, hopefully, the next 6 hours minimum, knowing I will not be doing laundry at 3, 4 or 5am reminds me of this:
Intuition is a beautiful thing.
(And quite helpful to toddlers learning to master language and communication.)
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