Sleeping Like a Baby

I always wondered how parents pulled off secret, nighttime parental duties like Santa Claus, the Easter Bunny, and the Tooth Fairy. I never caught my parents and, because I would try to catch them, was keenly aware of how difficult it must be for them to accomplish such things without my knowing. And now that I was a parent, how in the world was I going to do it?

But I know now: kids sleep like logs (Sometimes. Other times, they wake at the drop of a hat . . . or, well, something even quieter than that). You see, we need to put cream on Bud's staple 1-2 times a day. And, well, under the best of circumstances, the boy hates cream of any kind, anywhere. Now, he's particularly concerned with his head and his "head bonk" and won't tolerate anyone touching his head anywhere (not because it necessarily hurts but because he's scared it will). Today at the pediatrician's, he freaked out about the cream she put on his staple. And I'm supposed to do that at home?

So I suggested to Mama that we sneak into his room in the middle of the night and apply the cream. She blanched at the possibility of waking him but I persisted, arguing that the risk was worth avoiding the struggle of the cream. She finally agreed to help. Which was good, because he was sleeping practically under his pillow and needed to be hoisted into position, at which point I vigorously, probably too vigorously, slathered on a good helping of cream (Mupirocin, or Bactraban, for you nurses out there).

And he never woke up. He barely acknowledged that I had touched his head, by reaching his hand up to his scalp, but never opened his eyes or even shifted much at being relocated a good foot or so back onto his pillow.

I'm feeling much more confident in my ability to be the Tooth Fairy now, for sure.