To sleep perchance to scream

Generally, Sabrina is a much better sleeper than Simon. Although she is a bit of a night owl and tends not to go down until 11 or 12, once she's down she stays down, something I dearly love about her. Two nights ago, however, she wouldn't go down at all. Not at 11, not at 12, not at 1. We rocked, we rubbed, we fed, we soothed, we changed diapers, we begged and pleaded, but nothing was working. At 1:45, as I began to truly despair of getting any rest at all, and knowing that Simon was due for his first feeding at any moment, I tried taking off the shirt I had put under her pajamas. Instantly, she passed out cold and slept the rest of the night.

Mind you, this was a shirt she has worn before, a shirt completely devoid of sharp sticks and knife blades, a shirt that had never in any way caused her any offense that I am aware of. I put the shirt on her in the first place because she'd been waking up with cold hands and I wanted her to be warmer, but apparently my concern was misguided, and my daughter is trying to give the princess of princess-and-the-pea fame a run for her money. Cold hands it is from here on out.