You're tired. Exhausted. So is he. Except you're in bed trying to force yourself to go to sleep and he's pacing the hall outside your daughter's bedroom door and hearing her cry inside. She's two and having trouble sleeping in her own room. You know it's just a part of the process and it'll take a little while for her to phase out of this and get used to it. But Miguel isn't as easily convinced. Or maybe his heart just aches listening to his little girl crying in there thinking he can't hear her.

"Mamaaaa... Mommy!" She cries. Making you sigh. Of course you don't want her to cry but she needs to learn to sleep on her own and not cry every single night or else no one in this house will get the sleep they need. She's not in preschool yet, she spends all day with you. And yet when it's time for bed she resists and cries. It's getting really hard to deal with and not have a meltdown yourself.

"I don't like hearing that..." Your husband sighs, raking a hand through his tussled hair, there in a t-shirt and boxer for bed, standing in the doorway with a helpless look on his face. Looking at you on the bed. "She needs to cry it out sometimes..." You say, matter of factly. You know she's exhausted. She just needs to fall asleep and she'll stay that way until morning.

"MOMMY!!" Gabriella screams and cries down the hall. This is really tiring. Miguel turns, swiftly making his way down the hall. He won't listen to it anymore.