Well, unlike last New Year's eve (when I barely made it to midnight), this New Year's we did the unthinkable... we left Milkbaby with his doting grandparents, and drove over 3 hours across the countryside to have a few quiet beers with some friends. His first night alone without either of us. And for us, there was no coming back in the event of some unforeseen disaster ("he won't sleep!").
We tried to warn them: "he probably won't sleep that well". And, well, they'd seen his atrocious eating habits over the previous week. But the doting grandparents insisted that we should leave Milkbaby with them and take their convertible on a jaunt across the South Island. "A second honeymoon" said Grandad. I smiled gratefully, thinking about the potential for 8 hours uninterrupted sleep.
But that's the irony... all that potential was wasted. We were going to be drinking, watching fireworks, socialising, and then sleeping in a tent on the front lawn, with the waves crashing on the beach 30 metres away. So I was about as likely to get 8 squares as I was if I'd stayed with Milkbaby. But hey, what you haven't had in 18 months you don't miss.
And Milkbaby? He ate well and slept well (of course), and hardly noticed we were gone.