I have been hesitant to put this in writing, for fear of jinxing our good fortune, but, here goes … Oliver is a very good baby.
((( PAUSING TO KNOCK VIGOROUSLY ON WOOD )))
He is generally calm and content, loves snuggles, and is easy to console. He does well out-and-about, enjoys his bath times, and has a very sweet and smiley personality. He takes regular and lengthy naps throughout the day, but is alert and playful when he is awake. He sleeps well at night, and keeps his nighttime awakenings blessedly brief (he typically goes right back to sleep after his feeding, which, thanks to my oversupply issues, lasts less than 10 minutes). Although he does not like to be put down during the day, he sleeps on his own at night. He is, in short, a joy.
And, when he is not a joy, it is almost always because Vik and I have tried to be clever. If we have learned one thing these past seven weeks, it is that baby knows best.
He knows when he is tired, and he needs to be allowed to sleep. He knows when his nap is over, and should not be awoken early. He knows how often and how long he should feed, and don’t try to make him take more. Forget trying to set his schedule, because if you tinker with his preferred nap and feed times, he will repay you with constant fussiness and sleepless nights. If, on the other hand, you cater to his every preference and demand, he will reward you with (semi) restful nights, bright eyes, and gummy smiles.
And, really, what better reward than that gummy smile lighting up those beautiful chocolate eyes?