So, my wife loves... Wait, no. More emphasis: LOVES Anne Lamott's writing. She scored a copy of Lamott's latest, Some Assembly Required: A journal of my son's first son, and insisted I read it. Ok, fine. She loves me, least I can do is read a book, right? It's actually pretty good and I share the following with you as a cute bit, clever allusion and example of something you might bring in for extra credit (properly cited, of course).
"I told Sam about when he was three months old, and Pammy came over at night to support me in letting him learn to cry himself to sleep. His stomach was big enough to hold enough milk for eight hours, but he had developed the habit of waking up every four hours to nurse and check in with me on stuff he might have missed while sleeping.
The baby book said put him down, pat his back, and not pick him up, no matter how piteous he sounded. I was committed to letting him cry it out, for however long it took, and I made Pammy promise to help me keep my butt on the couch, like Ulysses strapped to the mast.
I lasted close to six minutes, then did crack under the strain and picked him up. Ulysses had an unfair advantage over me: the mast, and wax in his ears." Lamott, Anne, and Sam Lamott. Some Assembly Required: A journal of my son's first son. New York: Riverhead Books, 2012.
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