Last Friday night, my wife had a work thing that would run pretty late. That meant there were many guys who had nothing to do. Since we don’t have a babysitter yet, I was stuck at my house. I decided the best thing to do was to have poker night at my house. After all, if it was at someone else’s house, I wouldn’t have been able to join. Or, I would have brought Dylan, brought Dylan’s things, hoped Dylan slept in a strange environment, yada, yada.
I put the sign outside, “Don’t ring doorbell, come in.” I worked on getting Dylan asleep. A bath, a few bottles, pacing around the room, and plenty of white noise added up to putting him down at 7:30 p.m. I came down stairs surprised to see eight people already in my house. Eventually it was 14 guys (two poker tables), and four of them were definitely “frat guy” loud. Booming laughs, poker and beer. So loud. Only one other guy was a father. Two different times he really wanted me to check on Dylan. I did. He kept sleeping. He slept past the 1:30 a.m. time when everyone left, and kept sleeping until 7 a.m. It was only the second time he’s gone past 11 hours of sleep.
So while the poker decision was definitely the dumbest thing I’ve attempted to do, Dylan rewarded my stupidity. Now I’ll have to make a habit out of it. It’s the only logical outcome to make.