Sleeping on London Bridge

Our son Rufus slept in different ways as he reached different milestones. The first kind of sleep, when he was a tiny baby, was more a some kind of rapidly cycling consciousness and unconsciousness designed to disrupt parental sleep, this was a phase where we were lulled into a false sense of security. “It’s easy having a baby! Look here we are, out at the pub, and our baby is sleeping next to us at nine-o-clock at night!”. This phase passed and we fairly rapidly realised that Rufus wasn’t going to be the kind of baby who could just fall asleep on the play mat, or in the pushchair at a café, or in our arms at the pub, or in fact anywhere unless we did something to sort this situation out.

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