What am I, a hot potato?

Sometimes it seems like we are perpetually playing a game of hot potato in this house, except instead of being out if you are caught with the hot potato, you are the hero, rewarded with the opportunity to actually get a little sleep. (I'm so tired right now, I wrote "speel" instead of sleep. Sigh.)

Last night, for example, Lil a woke up at 1 am for no apparent reason. He didn't want to eat, be walked, lay down...nothing. So we took turns trying to figure out what was going on (cue the hot potato music. Set the timer for an hour). Eno walked him around, I tried feeding him, Eno bounced him, I tried feeding him (again, this time sitting up), Eno rocked him, I rocked him. Finally, the little hot potato fell asleep. I won!

I'm convinced that it isn't that I was more skilled at rocking him, or that he just wanted his mom. (God knows he didn't want his mom when she was trying to feed him!) I'm pretty sure it's just luck.