Who's the boss?

Last night I went to a concert with Anonyhub. It was everything I could've hoped from a night without the kid: relaxed, sexually charged. I drank a couple of beers and got a little buzz. Heard some good music.

But then we got back home at 12:30 and Anonybabe was still awake. She'd done well sitting with my friend but was a little spastic about seeing us again. She was obviously tired, and the beer I'd had had moved from making me lovey to making me feel belligerent. I was bound and determined that Anonybabe was going to go to sleep, no matter how frantic she was. I thought she needed to learn to settle down when it was time to settle down. I thought she needed to learn that I meant business when I said it was bedtime. So I wouldn't let Anonyhub take her to put her to sleep; I tried for almost an hour to get her to calm down and give in to the sandman. We tried walking the living room, laying on the couch with the tv on, sitting in the lazy boy, laying in our bed, laying her down in her bed, and on and on. She would almost drop off and then rally and just fight the sleep.

She was acting so crazy that I peeked into her diaper several times to see if she'd pooped; she was acting like she needed a change, but her diaper seemed fine. Finally I figured I had nothing to lose and plopped her down only to find that our babysitter had put a disposable diaper on Anonybabe with a cloth diaper cover over it. She was dry but she had extreme hot crotch. As soon as I took off the superfluous cover and put her pants back on, she calmly lay in my arms and went right to sleep.

So much for showing her who's boss.