Lena's POV
Ethan decided on a Thursday evening that sleep was no longer acceptable.
He had been building toward this for three days, the particular escalating restlessness of a baby who had something to communicate and had not yet developed the vocabulary for it and was making do with the tools available to him, which were primarily volume and persistence.
The persistence was impressive.
I had been home from the office by five-thirty, had fed him, had done the bath time routine with the full elaborate specificity that Henry had developed and that I had adopted because it worked, had attempted the settling sequence that usually resulted in sleep within twenty minutes.
By eight p.m. Ethan was still awake and had opinions about it.
Marcus had come for dinner.
He had arrived at six-thir
