When you just have to let your baby cry it.
When Eldest was six months old, he figured out that his pacifier put him to sleep and he refused to take it anymore. I could have forced the issue, but I dropped it. Mostly that meant that he had to cry himself to sleep because he just wouldn't drop off in my arms.
Princess and Frodo were both thumb suckers and put themselves painlessly to sleep from week five or six. No tears. Spoiled mama.
Charming knows what puts him to sleep. It isn't a paci. He hates them. It isn't a thumb. He never understood what he should do with it unless it was an accident. It is nursing. And he isn't about to participate. He started this a few weeks ago, but I added the lamby and he was out like a light. Today he figured out that dangerous combo (after I bragged to my friends that I knew his weaknesses). No more. Nothin' doin'. No nurse for him, thanks.
He had to cry it tonight. When you are crying being held, on the floor, in the jumper, in the saucer, with mom, with dad, and in your bed, well, you might as well be in your bed.
Night, night baby. I'm sorry.