I remember those halcyon days (sigh) back when bedtimes were easy. Oh, I used to nod with sympathy and understanding as other parents described their debilitating night-time woes, but all the time I was smiling smugly on the inside.
Well. It is payback time now.
Gilby's nightly tantrums have, if anthing, increased in duration and intensity over the last five days. I made the school girl error of googling the problem. Inevitably I stumbled blindly into a multitude of frenzied forums where the sleep-deprived contributors seemed ready to commit infanticide.
Suggestions ranged from cuddling your troubled toddler all night long, to locking him alone in the pitch black and ignoring the screams. Well, that's cleared that one up, then.
It did seem to me to neatly summarise the two extremes of approach to parenting, if nothing else.
We have gone for what I hope is a middle ground of calm whispering (it works, which losing my temper completely on Saturday night blatantly did not), moving bedtime forward by half an hour, a CBeebies podcast to listen to...and a stairgate beyond his door. Yes, I know, that's the controversial bit.
Last night it only took two hours for him to go down. A significant improvement on Saturday's six hour marathon which left us both physically and emotionally drained. And tonight...well, it's early yet, but...no screams!
I am not smiling smugly, inwardly or outwardly. Yet.