It's finally happened. Michael "slept through the night." Keep in mind that the technical qualification for this is six straight hours, which Michael did, almost exactly. He slept like a champ from 8 pm until nearly 2 am. Never mind that it took two four-ounce bottles, and an hour's worth of our time, to get him back down to sleep. And that he woke twice more, though briefly, before 7 am. At this point, I take what I can get, when I can get it. And I am proud of him for having come so far.
History has taught me, however, not to pin my hopes on this victory. I think it bodes well for the long-term, but ultimately means very little in the short-term. I've had no expectations that tonight would resemble last night in any way. And, so far, my reservations have proved justified. He's woken three times since being put down at 8 pm, though in his defense his current cries are not unwarranted: we couldn't fit in his last bottle before bedtime this evening. So he'll be getting it now. (Tom is on that, by the way- awesome guy that he is- so that I can swiftly work in this blog post before I turn into a pumpkin.)
I must admit that I am dearly hoping we can get a nice, long, stretch out of him for some part of tonight. (Especially since, if it starts after 11:30, that aligns more closely with my own bedtime, and I might actually enjoy more than three hours of the whole thing while sleeping.)
But I won't be putting money on it any time soon.