Like Father, (and Mother), Like Son

Last night was the first night of the "great sleep re-training" at our house. (When I say great I'm thinking "great" like the Great Cultural Revolution in China. An adjective used in complete opposite of it's meaning: as in long, painful, never ending and "this hurts but it's for your, and our, own good.)
Eric used to be such a great sleeper, then Christmas travel and illness threw him off his game. This past couple of weeks he's been waking up every hour or two to nurse and will not remain asleep unless I'm in OUR bed sleeping RIGHT BESIDE him. AHHHH!!! So last night was the night, and after about six attempts I got him sleeping in his crib. I'd lay him down, he'd cry, I'd pick him up and "ssh ssh ssh", he'd be almost asleep, I'd lay him in the crib, and wham, his eyes would fly open and he'd start wailing. One book I have suggests making a "nest", so I thought I'd get another blankie and put it on top of the thick one I'd already laid in his crib for extra padding. Lo and behold the next time he was fine, not a peep. And I honestly think it was the texture of the polar fleece backing of the original blanket that he didn't like. Every time he felt it he arched his back and started fussing. I was musing over this, that the little stinker is so fussy that he refuses a particular blanket. And then I thought, "This is coming from a parent who has been known to take her own pillow (and once blanket even) to hotels because the hotel ones smell different and make it difficult to sleep. And then his other parent takes his own pillow everywhere, because he doesn't trust that anyone else's will feel right and be ok for his neck." Hmmmm, ok, maybe not such a little stinker. It's perfectly normal to require certain elements of comfort and familiarity.