It’s 8:51PM EST in my neck of the woods. I just finished putting the kids to bed. Anyone with a child will tell you that once your child can start communicating with you, or responding back to your communication with them, bed time becomes a struggle. The demands and promises being thrown around are nothing less than what a peace treaty negotiation must be like at the United Nations. I get why we all need a glass of wine, piece of chocolate or an episode of Scandal. Anything that requires that much work deserves a reward.
With the older two they don’t always put up a fight. Once they learned how to read, things got a little better. Now they can go read in bed for about fifteen minutes. But then it’s the just let me finish this page or let me finish this comic I have read at least one thousand times and I forget how it ends. Or now that you are here to tuck me in, I need a drink, or I have to go to the bathroom. Oh by the way it’s pajama day at school and I want to wear the ones that are at the bottom of the laundry basket. Or maybe there is a long list of grievances of unmet promises that were made throughout the day. I have now learned to say we MAY do something and not we WILL do something. The middle child is especially good at remembering everything. We call him our elephant brain child.
There can be sweet moments, but by the end of the forty-five minute struggle, it’s time for bed. With a capital “B”.
The littlest one is the trickiest. Because she still has that sweet baby voice and big blue eyes. She even leans her head to the side oh so coquettishly and makes here sweet little requests. Just one more song, I need all my stuffed animals, I need to go to the bafroom. All said in her sweet little sing song. And if we dare deny her it’s instant tears and the dragon emerges. But none of that lasts long. We just shut the door and walk away.
At the end of it all I know there will come a day I will miss this, but for now, my husband and I are in a battle royale with the little squirts. We will be victorious!