Anyone Got A Tranquilizer Dart?

Ah! Look how peacefully that baby sleeps, snuggled next to his gourd. (Those of you now asking "Why does he have a gourd?" have obviously never met Max's Gramps. He collects weird things. He is teaching Max to collect weird things. Hey, I don't question your family traditions.) You would think, looking at this photo, that Max is a professional sleeper at the peak of his game, wouldn't you? HA! This is pretty much the last nap he ever succumbed to -- and this picture was taken TWO DAYS AGO! Max woke up around nine yesterday (he did us the courtesy of sleeping in, at least), and did not go back to sleep until after eleven o' clock last night. No naps. None. And I tried everything -- nursing, singing, rubbing his back, darkening the room, staying in the room with him, leaving the room, rocking him, patting him, threatening him, begging him -- you name it, I did it. The worst and most ominous part is that Max did not even seem tired. He wasn't ever fussy, and he never got that glassy-eyed stare that means impending slumber. He was extraordinarily cheerful, busy, and active all day. Whenever I tried to put him down for a nap, he seemed politely baffled as to why I was suggesting sleep when sleep was so obviously not required. By the time Ian got home, Max was exuberantly playing with his egg-shaped shakers, and I was curled up in a fetal position nearby, drooling. And, yes, Granny and Gramps, I am aware that you could and will trot out any number of stories where baby Chelsa interfered with the sleep of others, and that the karmic balance of it all just delights you to no end. Laugh it up.