I feel lousy for lots of reasons, some of which are none of Slate's damn business. One of them is that we are weaning our two-year-old from sleeping with a bottle--we were warned, but it seemed so easy to put him to sleep with it, and then it became an excuse for him to wake up in the middle of the night a couple of times asking for 'more bottle.' Then he goes back to sleep. But I don't, because it's usually hard for me to fall asleep. So we started weaning him last night, after a rough weekend visiting friends upstate, where we got very little sleep thanks to this bottle business--and the strange surroundings, of course. I'm not the best father when I don't sleep for many nights in a row, see? And his mother gets crabby, too, and then we start fighting over things, especially how to handle him with this bottle business. So it's in his best interests to lose the bottle at night. And he seems fine today, happy as a clam after a fitful, bottleless night of vociferous complaining. We're exhausted, but he's fine. And in a few days, we hope, this nightmare will be over.