Poor Sophie. Poor us. At around 10 pm last night, Sophie woke up to the sound of my husband in the stairwell. From time to time this happens. But yesterday was different. He must have used elephant feet to go upstairs, because the screams emanating from our child’s mouth were like none I’ve ever heard before. And they didn’t stop. For over an hour.

My husband went in to console her first. Usually, a brief hug and cuddle will do the trick. But not last night. As soon as she hit her mattress again, the agonizing sobs continued…and continued. Until I came to her rescue.

We huddled in her big chair, and she wanted me to sing “Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star.” Which makes me laugh. Because I have a HORRIBLE voice. I took singing lessons when I was a kid (I tried lots of activities when I was a kid, lots of activities that didn’t last more than a few weeks). I learned how to breathe and how to modulate my voice. For my recital, I had to sing “Climb Every Mountain” and “Whistle While You Work.” Which was pretty ironic, since I didn’t know how to whistle at the time. I think that was my teacher’s way of telling me that I was wasting her time.

The wonderful thing about children, however, is that they love you for who you are. Even if you are completely tone-deaf. So I sang for Sophie, and soon the sobs turned into sniffles, and then into quiet snores. But it wasn’t enough.

Because when I tried to put her into bed, the screams started all over again. Until her dear Papa returned to her cribside. And she agreed to let him lie down on the floor next to her bed. Pathetic, right? He stayed there for a bit (actually, it might have been longer than a bit). And then he finally made his escape.

All was quiet on the Sophie front until about 3 am. Then the wailing started all over again. We ignored it this time, and she finally fell back asleep. However, there’s no rest for the weary. When she woke me up yet again at 5 am with her screams, I brought her into bed with me. Which is probably what she wanted all along, and probably the worst thing we could have done.

I am already tense thinking about what might possibly happen tonight. Thoughts of mixing spoonfuls of Benadryl into her evening yogurt crossed my mind. But I have to have faith that our little one won’t subject us to that torture again. Otherwise, I may just have to purchase the entire stock of Benadryl from our local CVS.