Last night S stayed in the room with T to do night-night, T once again not happy about this, about no rocking chair and spigots—but when I left the room, he didn’t cry. At. All. S lay down on the bed and T fiddled with his books, ignoring his dad. Finally S called T over and HE WENT TO BED—tossed and turned a bit, but went to sleep in a timely manner (so did S). When my sleepy spouse finally stumbled out of our toddler’s room, I told him I had once again underestimated our son. “He totally gets it and is adapting,” I said. “Blrrrrrgh,” answered my husband. Today at naptime, T asked for his blanket. I said, “Nap? Sure!” Of course he wanted to rock and nurse, but again I told him the milk was all gone. He whimpered a little, but lay down on the bed with me and—WENT TO SLEEP. For the rest of the week, S will take over the night-night shift and then next week I’ll try it. I would still love to rock T and sing lullabies, sans nursing. We’ll see what happens.