I hate bedtime. Not mine but the kids. It’s such a drain going through the motions and the battles of getting pajamas on, teeth brushed, allergy medications taken, back in to bed when they get out, lights off when they come back on… you get the drift. I am taxed and tired at the end of the day and I want none of my kids crap. How’s that for tender loving bluntness?
Well last night I was putting Alexander to bed. He wanted to sleep with his dogs…. ALL of his dogs. They were all out on the floor on a red blanket celebrating Dalmatian’s Birthday. I asked him, incredulously, if he really wanted all of his dogs. His answer was short and precise. “Yup.”
So I got all of the dogs off the floor and piled them on to Alexander’s bed. I tucked him back in and was ready to start singing him some of our lullabies. Then he proclaimed that there were too many dogs on his bed and he just wanted Bunny. So I took all the dogs off the bed and tossed them on the floor. I tucked Bunny under his arm.
Alexander caught sight of the heap of dog mess on the floor and told me to place them neatly against the wall. Seriously? So I did. Seriously! (You have to do what this kid wants or he won’t stop asking/whining/pestering! And I wanted him asleep… and Pronto!)
Then he told me they needed a blanket. On top of them. Not on the floor. Apparently one was not enough. I had to get another. Oh, and they needed their Birthday cake too.
That was one of the most bizarre bedtimes I have had in my nearly 10 years of parenting.