For three days last week, I spent my afternoons sleeping in a Pack and Play.
Knowing we had a vacation coming up, and knowing Emmeline would never sleep in the porta-crib while there, I tried my best to get her accustomed to the Pack and Play — going so far as to crawl in with her.
It didn’t work. At all. I’m going to a chiropractor tomorrow.
The full story is at The San Franscisco Chronicle’s “The Poop:”
I went through her usual nap time routine — gave her a drink, read her a book and turned on a low, humming white noise machine. And then I crawled into the Pack and Play with her. My toes dug into the white mesh walls, and my knees pressed against my chest. My head pressed into another mesh wall and my neck felt like it was in a perpetual car crash as it jammed itself into my spine.
But soon, a remarkable thing happened. Emme cried for about a minute and then rested her head on my shoulder. She closed her eyes. Sucked her thumb. And drifted off to sleep. I looked at my watch and wondered how long I should wait before trying to sneak out — all the time thinking I was brilliant. I was so caught up in my perfect plan that I didn’t notice my legs had also drifted off to sleep.