Judecorp.

My dear, sweet, darling child:

You are tired. You are VERY tired. You slept for crap last night, you napped for crap this morning, and you are screeching the screech of the tired right this very second. You were tired on the couch, and you were tired in the rocking chair, and you were tired in the swaddle, and you were tired on mama's bed, and you are still, in fact, tired this very minute in the swing.

Would you please stop screaming your fool tired head off and, you know, fall asleep? I /promise/ it will get better if you do. Really.

Sincerely,
Mama

p.s. You know how you keep yawning in between screams? Yeah. Tired.

ETA: Mere minutes after this post, I removed her from the swing and she begin to submit to the beautiful gods of sleep. We made a quick venue change to her bedroom so we could rock in the rocking chair and seal the deal. And then, as her eyes beatifically closed and she looked like an angel... monster poo.

So we change the diaper, thereby completely waking up the darling child, reswaddle and commence the whole nightmare again, although with double pressure: 1) to get the exhausted child to sleep, and 2) to be able to rinse that nasty, foul diaper out and put it in the diaper pail.

Suddenly CIO and disposable diapers seem more appealing by the minute. ;)