Getting a little practice while we can still return her

Because our apartment is a two bedroom we've had to be rather creative in sleeping everyone who is visiting right now. Which boils down to, Ella is in our walk-in closet. Which would be ok except for we have to leave the door open so she doesn't suffocate and each time we roll over you can hear her little elf-ears perk up. Bud and I got into bed last night and I could just feel it coming, in the air, tonight. Like Phil Collins. Her little rustlings around turned more deliberate and sure enough, a wail followed. I froze, Bud cursed. I think the cursing? That helps a sleeping baby. A lot. Finally Summer came and got her which is like handing a drug addict some free coke because guess what? You've been so good today! I think Ella believed she'd won the, "I will cry until I am picked up," portion of the fight and could be heard playing and laughing in the living room where Summer and Georgia were still clinging to those last little bits of hope that said they might actually get some sleep last night. We tried again in our room until my heart broke for the umpteenth time and I picked her up. Then it was really on. Summer moved her portable crib into the living room and I guess mama means business because. She. Stopped. The. Crying. With luck, I will one day wield that kind of power.