The planned eviction, I'm sure you'll all be delighted to hear, went brilliantly. Lumpy took up residence in his luxorious new domain with perfect humour and grace, and settled down immediately for 12 solid, uninterrupted hours of sleep.
Of course it bloody didn't. Are you stark, staringly insane? Everything in the above statement is a bald-faced lie. We're all, basically, dead over here. But I'm just managing to amimate my sleepless corpse enough to type. I hope you appreciate the effort. You are welcome.
The first night started off promisingly. Lumpy went off to sleep in the cot without a complaint. At about 10.45pm, we were sitting on the couch, feeling deliciously smug, looking forward to our first decent night's sleep in over six months, and wondering why we didn't move our little darling into his own space earlier.
At 10.46pm we were racing upstairs to save our baby, who was clearly being eaten to death by a pack of wolves, so intense and horrifying were his cries. Imagine our surprise when we found no slathering carnivores, but just an inconsolable child, pausing in his screams only to look at us reproachfully for abandoning him. Lumpy has rarely been so upset - even the boob would not console him - initially. After showing his displeasure for about twenty minutes, he finally forgave me enough to have a feed.
And the whole experiment almost ended there. We were this close () (and that's very, very close, let me tell you) to just giving up and bringing him back into our room, where he would no doubt remain for the rest of our natural lives.
But we were strong. We put him back into his cot, and, eventually, he fell asleep. And so did we. For a short while. He woke up a couple more times during the night, but he didn't howl in quite such a spectacular fashion.
(And now I just have to point out that I've had to break off from writing this post about seven times so far, to tend to the aforementioned child, and it's now 9.32pm and he's still refusing to go to sleep, so you might start to suspect that this one doesn't have a happy ending. Sorry for the spolier.)
Anyway, where were we? Oh yes, lack of sleep, baby waking up constantly, blah blah blah, my god, even I realize how boring this is, and I'm living it. I do apologise. We had a few days in the middle of the hell where he only woke up a couple of times in the night, and we dared to think that maybe this wasn't all going to be a complete nightmarish disaster. But then - ha, ha! - it all went to shit again.
I wish I had something more positive and amusing to tell you, but frankly the concept of another night like the last two is like a big grey cloud hanging over me, and I just want to cry. I'm trying to dredge something funny out of that, but, no. My sense of humour has just dribbled out of my right earlobe.
So I shall just have to give you some more photos.
Sitting! Look! We're doing really well at that.
Right, looks like that still needs a bit of work too. Sigh.