For the longest time (err...well...I guess it's more like a week or so), Jaimie has refused to have me put her to bed for her nighttime sleep. Each night she'd demand for mommy, and mommy alone, to sing her lullabies, to pat her into slumberland.
My bad, actually.
I'd underestimated a child's ability to remember unhappy experiences.
About a week ago, that was the last night I accompanied Jae as she went to bed. She was slightly cranky and kept sitting up or even getting to her feet. Each time I lay her down on her pillow, she'd very quickly get back up again. Having had a tiring day in the office, and expecting a rough day at work the next day, it didn't take long before my patience ran short. Not wanting to enter into yet another
bout of attrition, I imposed the most obvious advantage I possess over the little one - size and strength.
I held her up by the armpits and sternly told her that she had to listen to Papa, stop being naughty and quickly go to sleep. Then I held her down on the mattress, restraining her struggles to get up, and ignoring her cries of objection. She soon got tired and eventually relented, quitening down to my rhythmic patting and humming, and fell asleep. Job well done, I thought.
Well done, my foot!
It didn't take long for me to realise that this little episode wasn't without repurcussions. The very next night, she left no room for doubt who she didn't want singing her lullabies. My usual line of "
It's ok dear...Papa is here...", which used to work well whenever she cries, now sounded more like a threat rather than a reassurance.
I was rejected by my baby. Completely and utterly.
And this went on night, after night, after night. I had no chance to redeem myself at all.
Until tonight.
There was something different in the way she looked at me when I asked her "Papa pat-pat 你睡觉, ok?". She still appeared to be somewhat uncomfortable, but did not go into her vigourous head-shaking-hands-waving routine. Anything different is good, I thought. So I signalled to Angie that I'd take it from here. When mommy left the room, Jae cried and wanted to get out of the mattress to look for mommy. Fortunately, she wasn't totally unconsolable tonight. With much cajoling and trial-and-error humming of lullabies, I managed to hit jackpot with "
End of The World". Not sure why I picked that song, and I couldn't recall the lyrics properly, so I ended up humming the tune instead. In any case, that was the turning point, when Jae really calmed down and became receptive to my half-baked hum-singing, my gentle scratching on her back, my light patting on her arms...my presence besides her.
I feel like I have crossed a hurdle, reached a milestone and learnt a lesson, in the journey of Fatherhood. It's not a lesson I'd readily forget anytime soon, for sure.
As I gaze upon her lightly shut eyes and tiny movements of her tummy rising and falling, I thought of how people always say to count your blessings. And I realised that I couldn't do it.
For how does one count something that is so bountiful that it sees no boundaries?
When I got home from duty today, I saw on the table a new t-shirt that Angie has gotten for me. It is a Giordano t-shirt which, curiously, has prints of quotes from the movie Fight Club.
Jae having fun getting wet.
Here's the first totally unassisted doodle she made! 
