Thwarted

Last night, at 3:30 in the morning, my son started to wake up for his next feed cycle. While he was still yawning, I quickly changed his diaper. Usually, this will make him start bawling. But because of his sleepy state, and my speed on the diaper, he kind of gave me a look like, “Wait, what’s going on...oh, oooh...that feels nice. I feel dry and clean.”

While he was still wondering where the new diaper came from, I got him situated and stuck a bottle in his mouth. He was surprised that he didn’t have to do his usual crying to get it, but grateful too. He started to suck contentedly.

Halfway through the bottle, either because he finally caught up to the process, or because he was irked that I had been so efficient, he started to cry. Bottle still in his mouth, taking sucks in between sobs, crying. I thought he wasn’t hungry, so I took the bottle out, which made him cry more. So I put it back in, and he stopped. A few minutes later, and he started crying again. Cry...suck, suck, suck...cry...suck.

Without expecting a response, but asking anyway, I asked him what was wrong. I imagined him responding with something like, “Nothing. I’m clean, dry, fed, and loved. [sobbing uncontrollably] I’m just so happy. [sobbing harder] Everything is perfect...really. [red-faced wailing] All my needs are met, and I didn’t even get a chance to cry first. I just feel like I need to catch up...restore order to the universe.”