Whilst the festive period played havoc with Gertie's sleeping patterns, Gilby found the departure from normal routine similarly disruptive.
We stayed with family for Christmas night and Boxing Day night and he and his sister slept in the same room which doesn't usually happen at home.
So different place, different set-up, travel cot, lots of noise, and no routine as Mum tried to 'go with the flow', all led to a rapid disintegration of the night time experience for all concerned.
Sometimes he wakes up once, often twice and occasionally three times, so nights are not brilliant anyway; but on the upside he goes down to sleep really easily at 7pm with no fuss and goes straight back to sleep after each feed.
Not over the festive period though. He turned into some strange version of my baby that I suddenly didn't know: crying every time I tried to put him in the cot, waking up much more often and refusing to go down happily after a feed.
This was complicated by the fact that I was desperately trying to prevent him from waking his older sister, sleeping in the cot beside him, so I couldn't leave him to cry.
Anyway, Christmas night was bad. We didn't have longer than two hours between feeds at any point and sleep deprivation coupled with a small hangover (or large, for my husband) was not a recipe for tranquility.
Boxing Day night did not start well, and after agreeing that Daddy would give Gilby a formula bottle at next waking to see if that would encourage him to sleep a little longer, we both fell very soundly and gratefully to sleep, utterly exhausted.
Gilby duly awoke some time later and Daddy did his duty. I looked at my watch and whispered, "You'll never guess what: it's five to four! He's gone for a whole six hours!"
"Brilliant!" he whispered back sleepily in the darkness, "We all really needed that!"
Gilby woke again and I leapt up to breast-feed him thinking it must now be early morning. But no, bizarrely, three o'clock pointed the hands on the dial of my watch. How could that be? Unless I had misread the earlier time: it must have been twenty past eleven, not five to four. So he (and we) would have been asleep for a whole hour and a bit before that first feed, not the six hours we thought we'd had.
Marvellous. Yes, Daddy, we all really needed that.