Let it be known that on Saturday, 10 December 2005, Jasper, the New Recruit, from henceforth to be known as The Good One, slept through the night. That's right people, my 7week and three day old baby slept from approximately 8.45pm to 5.45am. Of course, I went to bed after midnight as there were cinnamon scrolls to be made and pastry for pecan pie to be rolled for today, so its impact was certainly lost on my "oh God I'm tired" state of mind. He has had about three eight-hour stints, a lot of five hour stints, and it is now the norm for me to only be up with him once a night rather than twice (and by golly do you feel like DEATH when it's the twice a night routine. Now I truly understand why when I was averaging 3 wake-ups a night for OVER TWO YEARS and living on a then pathetic wage of a chef I was COMPLETELY MENTAL). But this was the longest, and it feels bad to say it, but I think it made me love him even more. I know of course that when I go back to work and do dreadful abandoning things that will send his stress hormones through the roof and send him down a path of agressive childhood and untold trauma that will impact on his ability to forge rewarding relationships as an adult, that he will wake up on the hour every hour to ensure I haven't abandoned him even more, so you have to let me gloat Gloat GLOAT here while it lasts.