Say the words “ceiling fan,” “mirror,” “doorknob,” “Lucas” (our cat), “pantry”, “hat,” or (her current favorite) “toilet,” and she points right at and laughs, her three teeth showing. The first time she did this, it was as scary as it was delightful.

But our little angel still doesn’t sleep through the night.

Those of you with little ones know something I didn’t until just recently – when I became a dad, in fact: that even though they’re tiny, harmless looking munchkins, infants are hard at work building strong wills, and one of the best places to observe that is during sleep training.

It was interesting for me to learn that it’s actually not natural for babies to fall asleep. Or, put more accurately, they aren’t born with the internal mechanism to put themselves to sleep. They’re used to drifting off as we hold them, as mother’s feeding them, or in some other way that gives them the sort of comfort that allows them to go under without realizing what they’re doing. And they like it that you do the work: it feels nice, and it’s easy.

Leave Johanna in a crib by herself, though, and she still doesn’t know how to flip her own “off” switch. First of all, she hates going to bed, apparently because she’s afraid she might miss something.

But when the time comes, she wants us to step in and help. Whether it’s 7 at night or 3 in the morning, she’ll wail and cry most pitifully until someone comes in to rescue her. And it gets exhausting.

As we know from reading and talking to other parents, there are several methods for teaching the falling-asleep skill. Most of them work, it seems, if you have the backbone to stick with them. Problem is, they involve forcing your precious daughter to do something she’s disinclined to do.

It’s a test of your personalities. How much discomfort are you willing to inflict on her so that she learns what she must? How long is she willing to fight you?

What kind of man are you: cruel but wise or caring yet weak? Who blinks first?

Yes, we’ve tried the “Ferber” methods. One says to let her cry for five minutes, then go in to comfort her; let her cry ten minutes then go in again, and so on, until she falls asleep. There’s also “cold turkey”: letting her cry, all night if necessary, till she just gives up and drifts off. That can cause pandemonium and feel downright abusive. But many parents say it works great, no harm done.

We always vowed to be firm about sleep habits, but it has been tough.I voted for turning the monitor off so we just wouldn’t hear the crying, but my wife, Jiho, overruled that. “I want to hear what she’s going through,” she says. And when I hear the crying, I want to go in and check on Johanna.

But that’s’ when I see the pleading in her eyes, the tears streaming down her cheeks, the expression that seems to say, “how could you leave me here like this? I thought you loved me!” And our little darling ends up with anything from a silent hug to a full-fledged piggyback ride around the room.

Is she manipulating us? A child with those big, expressive eyes? Of course she is.

She’s learning to develop and use her will, we’re suckers, and we’re all getting more exhausted by the day.

Does it make us lousy parents? Nah. We’re still only nine months into this project. All things considered, we’re doing our best. All the books give that the thumbs-up.

And now excuse me, I hear sounds of distress coming through the monitor. Is Johanna starting to cry? Better be there when she wakes up. Gotta run!

Photo (not of Johanna) by valentinapowers @ Flickr.