Wakemare:noun. A dream that a child thinks happened and you can't convince him otherwise.
Lately, Viking Toddler has been having some really crazy, vivid dreams. He wakes up and tells me about them, but he talks like whatever he dreamed really happened. He's pointed to areas of his room where he left his new toy. Except, he doesn't *have* a new toy. He's recounted a trip he took that never happened. He talks about when he was sick the night before, only he wasn't. Right now, I'm working on helping him distinguish dream from reality. I've explained to him that dreams are just something your brain thinks about while you are asleep. If you have a better explanation than that, I'd love to hear it.
This morning, Viking Toddler told me all about me putting a tent over his head. I was more than a bit confused. He's been telling me about it all day, and I've been telling him all day that it didn't happen. He even said that I did it because he said a bad word. Again, I told him that I didn't put a tent over his head, nor would I do that. He doesn't seem convinced.
But I think there will be no more snacks before bed.
Showing posts with label Bedtime. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Bedtime. Show all posts
Monday, April 11, 2011
Monday, March 7, 2011
Statements of Epicness Part II
Part I here.
You know what's fun? Kids (Sometimes. OK, often. Most of the time. When nothing is breaking and no one is yelling at you). You know what's even more fun? When kids don't know what to call something and they try to use descriptive terms to get the point across.
The other day, Viking Toddler was tired and he yawned. Only, as really odd as it may sound, he didn't know the word, "yawn." Clearly, I have failed. He's got a nice vocabulary, but apparently I've neglected to teach that one.
Anyway, he wanted to tell me he yawned, but not having the word, he instead said, "I have tired in my mouth."
Makes sense, I guess.
You know what's fun? Kids (Sometimes. OK, often. Most of the time. When nothing is breaking and no one is yelling at you). You know what's even more fun? When kids don't know what to call something and they try to use descriptive terms to get the point across.
The other day, Viking Toddler was tired and he yawned. Only, as really odd as it may sound, he didn't know the word, "yawn." Clearly, I have failed. He's got a nice vocabulary, but apparently I've neglected to teach that one.
Anyway, he wanted to tell me he yawned, but not having the word, he instead said, "I have tired in my mouth."
Makes sense, I guess.
Wednesday, January 19, 2011
Night Confusion Part IV
Night Confusion: noun. The state of mind of a child that wakes up only partially.
Picture it. Middle of the night. I was dead asleep, when I was woken by a blood curdling scream coming from the kids' room. I scrambled out of bed, lost my balance and hit the relentless, fridgid terrazzo floor. I got to my feet, and tried to get to the boys' room. My mind was a whirl trying to piece together what was going on. My still half-asleep mind settled on "intruder in the kids' room" as the most likely scenario.*
I was in their room in under ten seconds. Probably closer to five. I flipped on the light, ready to do my motherly duty which may involve beating the tar out of someone who dared mess with mama bear. However, that proved to be unnecessary. The screaming was because Viking Toddler chose to try to take off his shirt in his sleep and it got stuck on his head.
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*It's probably pretty strange that this is the first place my mind jumped, but let me explain. Family lore, as passed down by Older Sister, states that when we were young, someone had tried to enter our home by coming through the window of the bedroom that my two sisters and I shared. She recalls that the next day our grandfather came by to promptly screw our window shut. Whether or not that was a good idea is not the point. It is, however, why I keep a very close watch on the boys' windows.
Picture it. Middle of the night. I was dead asleep, when I was woken by a blood curdling scream coming from the kids' room. I scrambled out of bed, lost my balance and hit the relentless, fridgid terrazzo floor. I got to my feet, and tried to get to the boys' room. My mind was a whirl trying to piece together what was going on. My still half-asleep mind settled on "intruder in the kids' room" as the most likely scenario.*
I was in their room in under ten seconds. Probably closer to five. I flipped on the light, ready to do my motherly duty which may involve beating the tar out of someone who dared mess with mama bear. However, that proved to be unnecessary. The screaming was because Viking Toddler chose to try to take off his shirt in his sleep and it got stuck on his head.
___________________________________
*It's probably pretty strange that this is the first place my mind jumped, but let me explain. Family lore, as passed down by Older Sister, states that when we were young, someone had tried to enter our home by coming through the window of the bedroom that my two sisters and I shared. She recalls that the next day our grandfather came by to promptly screw our window shut. Whether or not that was a good idea is not the point. It is, however, why I keep a very close watch on the boys' windows.
Sunday, January 2, 2011
Randomare
Randomare: noun. A nightmare about something random or out of the blue.
The other night, we found Viking Toddler in his bed yelling, "I need new toys!" He wasn't quite awake, but we got him to settle back into bed and go to sleep. In the morning we asked him what he was dreaming about.
"My toys were on fire," he said.
OK...I guess, yes, that would be a reason for new toys. But dreaming that your toys are on fire? Where on earth did that come from?
A night or two later, he had a similar dream.
Last night, I told him to dream about something silly instead.
"Can you tell me something silly to dream about?" I asked.
"The window," he replied.
"The window?"
"Yes," he said. "That's so crazy!"
Uh huh...crazy. I know the feeling.
The other night, we found Viking Toddler in his bed yelling, "I need new toys!" He wasn't quite awake, but we got him to settle back into bed and go to sleep. In the morning we asked him what he was dreaming about.
"My toys were on fire," he said.
OK...I guess, yes, that would be a reason for new toys. But dreaming that your toys are on fire? Where on earth did that come from?
A night or two later, he had a similar dream.
Last night, I told him to dream about something silly instead.
"Can you tell me something silly to dream about?" I asked.
"The window," he replied.
"The window?"
"Yes," he said. "That's so crazy!"
Uh huh...crazy. I know the feeling.
Tuesday, December 28, 2010
Sleep Myth
Sleep Myth: noun. The myth that after a certain age, kids (and adults, for that matter) almost always sleep through the night.
Uh, can we say false? Maybe it's just me, but sleeping through the night seems to be a luxury these days. Between sleep walkers/talkers, illnesses, general wakings, storms, weather changes, headaches... Pfft. What I want is a good night's sleep.
But of course, it's not all bad. The kids' sleep talking is actually pretty funny, even if it does wake me up. For instance, a few days ago we went to a birthday party, at which there was an indoor playground. Viking Toddler wanted to run and play in it like the other children, but in order to get up into it, you had to go up a serious of platforms that were as high as his chest. A few of Philosopher Child's classmates with some seriously heightened maternal senses helped Viking Toddler get up the platforms over and over, and seemed extremely happy to do so. Really cute.
Later that night, I heard Viking Toddler moving around and talking. I found him sitting up in his bed, saying, "I need to get up there. I need help to get up there." He was of course dreaming about the little girls helping him up to the platforms.
I said, "OK, I'll help you." I laid him down on his pillow. "Are you up there now?"
"Yes."
"OK. Go back to sleep."
Well, maybe having to get up at night every now and then and catch such adorableness isn't so bad.
Uh, can we say false? Maybe it's just me, but sleeping through the night seems to be a luxury these days. Between sleep walkers/talkers, illnesses, general wakings, storms, weather changes, headaches... Pfft. What I want is a good night's sleep.
But of course, it's not all bad. The kids' sleep talking is actually pretty funny, even if it does wake me up. For instance, a few days ago we went to a birthday party, at which there was an indoor playground. Viking Toddler wanted to run and play in it like the other children, but in order to get up into it, you had to go up a serious of platforms that were as high as his chest. A few of Philosopher Child's classmates with some seriously heightened maternal senses helped Viking Toddler get up the platforms over and over, and seemed extremely happy to do so. Really cute.
Later that night, I heard Viking Toddler moving around and talking. I found him sitting up in his bed, saying, "I need to get up there. I need help to get up there." He was of course dreaming about the little girls helping him up to the platforms.
I said, "OK, I'll help you." I laid him down on his pillow. "Are you up there now?"
"Yes."
"OK. Go back to sleep."
Well, maybe having to get up at night every now and then and catch such adorableness isn't so bad.
Tuesday, June 1, 2010
Night Confusion Part III
First off, you see the little follower tab on the right hand side, about a third of the way down? Do you see the number? 99. How awesome is that? Those of you who were here from early on remember when 10 was a huge deal. Now 99. You know what would be better? 100. Just saying.
Part I Part II
Night Confusion: noun. The state of mind of a child that wakes up only partially.
The other night, I was getting everything ready for Husband and I to go to bed. As I was sitting in the living room, finishing some last minute tasks, Philosopher Child, who had been asleep for a few hours at this point, appeared in the hallway. He stood there and just stared at me.
"Can I help you?" I said.
"cnigobesnow?"
"What? I'm sorry, I can't hear you. You'll have to come here."
He ran up to me and said, "Can I go to bed now?"
Huh? Uh... "Yes. You can go to bed now."
That's a new one. Getting up to ask to go to bed.
Part I Part II
Night Confusion: noun. The state of mind of a child that wakes up only partially.
The other night, I was getting everything ready for Husband and I to go to bed. As I was sitting in the living room, finishing some last minute tasks, Philosopher Child, who had been asleep for a few hours at this point, appeared in the hallway. He stood there and just stared at me.
"Can I help you?" I said.
"cnigobesnow?"
"What? I'm sorry, I can't hear you. You'll have to come here."
He ran up to me and said, "Can I go to bed now?"
Huh? Uh... "Yes. You can go to bed now."
That's a new one. Getting up to ask to go to bed.
Monday, March 22, 2010
Nocturnal Refusal part II
Nocturnal Refusal: noun. The behavior or set of behaviors employed by a child in order to delay bedtime as long as possible.
The other night I was putting the boys to bed. Bedtime isn't quite as hectic and frustrating as it used to be (see part 1), but that doesn't mean that the littlemonsters monkeys go straight to bed, either.
"Seven o'clock is bedtime for you," I reminded Philosopher Child. "And Mommy and Daddy go to bed around ten or eleven." Although it could be later if we are watching a movie or had caffeine.
"Wow!" he said. "You must be tired!"
Finally! He gets it! Staying up later=tired during the day, and that is why he should go to bed!
Only, he is right. I go to bed too late and find it hard to get up in the morning. Out of the mouths of babes, right?
The other night I was putting the boys to bed. Bedtime isn't quite as hectic and frustrating as it used to be (see part 1), but that doesn't mean that the little
"Seven o'clock is bedtime for you," I reminded Philosopher Child. "And Mommy and Daddy go to bed around ten or eleven." Although it could be later if we are watching a movie or had caffeine.
"Wow!" he said. "You must be tired!"
Finally! He gets it! Staying up later=tired during the day, and that is why he should go to bed!
Only, he is right. I go to bed too late and find it hard to get up in the morning. Out of the mouths of babes, right?
Sunday, March 7, 2010
Night Confusion Part II
Night Confusion: noun. The state of mind of a child that wakes up only partially.
Read part I here.
12:45 am. I felt like I had just fallen asleep, and actually, that wasn't too far from the truth. I was woken up by the sound of Philosopher Child making his way to the living room. Understand, Philosopher Child doesn't have that great of a concept of time if the sun is not up, and so will get up in the middle of the night and think it is morning, or get up while it is morning but still dark and think it is night.
I popped out of bed, saying, "No, no, no, no," meaning, of course, that it is the middle of the night and he should go back to bed. I met him in the hall.
"But I had a scary dream!" he said. "There was a polka-dot alien ship!"
Excuse me? Polka-dot alien ship? Did I hear that right? And something about the window.
Exhausted, I told him to go back to bed, but then he said something that surprised me and I'm sure freaked him out.
"You just said the same thing you said in my dream! The 'No, no, no, no.'"
Great. Now I'm having to tell them no so much it is getting in their dreams.
Read part I here.
12:45 am. I felt like I had just fallen asleep, and actually, that wasn't too far from the truth. I was woken up by the sound of Philosopher Child making his way to the living room. Understand, Philosopher Child doesn't have that great of a concept of time if the sun is not up, and so will get up in the middle of the night and think it is morning, or get up while it is morning but still dark and think it is night.
I popped out of bed, saying, "No, no, no, no," meaning, of course, that it is the middle of the night and he should go back to bed. I met him in the hall.
"But I had a scary dream!" he said. "There was a polka-dot alien ship!"
Excuse me? Polka-dot alien ship? Did I hear that right? And something about the window.
Exhausted, I told him to go back to bed, but then he said something that surprised me and I'm sure freaked him out.
"You just said the same thing you said in my dream! The 'No, no, no, no.'"
Great. Now I'm having to tell them no so much it is getting in their dreams.
Wednesday, July 8, 2009
Momare
Momare: noun. A dream that shows even when asleep, a mom is still a mom.As I lay sleeping last night, I dreamed there was a plate of cookies on the table. The cookies were meant for someone specific. Then I dreamed that someone who they were not meant for was reaching for the cookies. (Was it a child or a short adult? Not sure.) Anyway, in the dream I reached out and slapped the person's hand to get them away from the cookies.
Meanwhile, back in reality, I really had reached out in my sleep just as I did in the dream. Oh, yes, I reached out... and slapped Husband squarely on the forehead.
The contact woke both of us up. I woke up apologizing (though I wasn't awake enough to know why), and he woke up yelling incomprehensibly. Then we both woke up enough to laugh about it, and I told him to leave the cookies alone next time.
Tuesday, January 20, 2009
Night Confusion
Night Confusion: noun. The state of mind of a child that wakes up only partially.
Have your children ever woken up crying but not been able to tell you why, only to drop off into a deep sleep moments later? Or maybe they try to talk to you but make no sense? At our house, this happens often.
A few days ago Monkey Son #1 woke up crying, saying he didn't want any of something, but I couldn't understand what the something was. I kept asking him to repeat it, but it made no sense to me. Finally, I just said, "OK, you don't have to have any." Then he grabbed his feet and said, "Can I borrow this?"
Another instance was when he was about 3. He woke up and said, "It wasn't a dragon. It was a sheep. Sheep say 'Baaaa!'" That was probably the most entertaining one.
As little sense as half-awake children make to us, I'm sure the world makes as little sense to them. When my brother was young, my parents had a smoke detector that talked and said, "Low battery," when the battery needed to be replaced. One night the smoke detector did in fact need a new battery. My brother went to go tell my parents, who did not hear the alert. Only...my brother didn't understand what the smoke detector was saying.
"Mom! The smoke detector keeps calling me a blueberry!"
Say it out loud. You'll get it.
See also: Sleep Action
Have your children ever woken up crying but not been able to tell you why, only to drop off into a deep sleep moments later? Or maybe they try to talk to you but make no sense? At our house, this happens often.
A few days ago Monkey Son #1 woke up crying, saying he didn't want any of something, but I couldn't understand what the something was. I kept asking him to repeat it, but it made no sense to me. Finally, I just said, "OK, you don't have to have any." Then he grabbed his feet and said, "Can I borrow this?"
Another instance was when he was about 3. He woke up and said, "It wasn't a dragon. It was a sheep. Sheep say 'Baaaa!'" That was probably the most entertaining one.
As little sense as half-awake children make to us, I'm sure the world makes as little sense to them. When my brother was young, my parents had a smoke detector that talked and said, "Low battery," when the battery needed to be replaced. One night the smoke detector did in fact need a new battery. My brother went to go tell my parents, who did not hear the alert. Only...my brother didn't understand what the smoke detector was saying.
"Mom! The smoke detector keeps calling me a blueberry!"
Say it out loud. You'll get it.
See also: Sleep Action
Saturday, January 3, 2009
Storiquestion Time
Storiquestion Time: noun. A situation that begins as story time, but results in endless questions.
I've been having a hard time getting the Monkey Boys to just go to bed. They're up and down and running around and crying and laughing and begging for just one more snack.
For crying out loud.
So, I've heard that one thing you can do for this is really get into a routine, and that will help the kids settle down. I try to plan bedtime for around 7, so around 6:30 they get their teeth brushed and we head to their room for story time before lights out.
Tonight we were reading a condensed version of The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardobe (one of those ones with pictures from the movie). On the first page I pause to explain to him why the Pevensie children are leaving, but then we have to stop because Monkey Son #1 wants to know why London is being bombed.
"Are they bad guys? Why are they doing that? I saw a soldier at the Y and he had a son..."
And then the wardrobe.
"There's a wardrobe! It's a magic wardrobe. It has doors like that. Is it a magic wardrobe? Why is it a magic wardrobe?"
You get the idea. Eventually, the questions lessened, but did not stop. You'll be proud to know we did in fact make it through the whole book.
I've been having a hard time getting the Monkey Boys to just go to bed. They're up and down and running around and crying and laughing and begging for just one more snack.
For crying out loud.
So, I've heard that one thing you can do for this is really get into a routine, and that will help the kids settle down. I try to plan bedtime for around 7, so around 6:30 they get their teeth brushed and we head to their room for story time before lights out.
Tonight we were reading a condensed version of The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardobe (one of those ones with pictures from the movie). On the first page I pause to explain to him why the Pevensie children are leaving, but then we have to stop because Monkey Son #1 wants to know why London is being bombed.
"Are they bad guys? Why are they doing that? I saw a soldier at the Y and he had a son..."
And then the wardrobe.
"There's a wardrobe! It's a magic wardrobe. It has doors like that. Is it a magic wardrobe? Why is it a magic wardrobe?"
You get the idea. Eventually, the questions lessened, but did not stop. You'll be proud to know we did in fact make it through the whole book.
Thursday, October 9, 2008
I-Think Existence
I-Think Existence: noun. The particular type of existence a young child gives to the inhabitants of his imagination.
A little philosophy course refresher: Philosopher Rene Descartes made the famous statement, "I think, therefore I am." Believe it or not, what he was saying with that statement is that if he is thinking, there must be someone there doing that thinking, therefore he exists.
Young children, though, seem to take this idea to levels that would shock Descartes. They go beyond "I think, therefore I am," to "I think it, therefore it exists." But what is it? Anything from polka-dotted dinosaurs to closet monsters.
When I was very young, I believed there were hands under the bed that would reach out and grab you if you stepped too close. Why? I have no idea, but to me they had this sort of twilight existence, merely because I thought of them. If my parents told me that there wasn't anything there, I wouldn't have thought they were lying, but I still would have stayed away from the edge of the bed.
As a side note, I began to get over this fear when one night I had a dream that has stayed with me all this time. In the dream, I just got sick of these hands and their nonsense, and decided I would tell my mother about them. As I stood up and began to walk past the bed, a hand reached out and grabbed my ankle. Frustrated and in no mood to deal with this sort of thing anymore, I slapped the hand and it immediately released. Take that!
A little philosophy course refresher: Philosopher Rene Descartes made the famous statement, "I think, therefore I am." Believe it or not, what he was saying with that statement is that if he is thinking, there must be someone there doing that thinking, therefore he exists.
Young children, though, seem to take this idea to levels that would shock Descartes. They go beyond "I think, therefore I am," to "I think it, therefore it exists." But what is it? Anything from polka-dotted dinosaurs to closet monsters.
When I was very young, I believed there were hands under the bed that would reach out and grab you if you stepped too close. Why? I have no idea, but to me they had this sort of twilight existence, merely because I thought of them. If my parents told me that there wasn't anything there, I wouldn't have thought they were lying, but I still would have stayed away from the edge of the bed.
As a side note, I began to get over this fear when one night I had a dream that has stayed with me all this time. In the dream, I just got sick of these hands and their nonsense, and decided I would tell my mother about them. As I stood up and began to walk past the bed, a hand reached out and grabbed my ankle. Frustrated and in no mood to deal with this sort of thing anymore, I slapped the hand and it immediately released. Take that!
Monday, September 15, 2008
Guest Entry: Sleep Action
Sleep Action: noun. The set of actions a young child does during sleep, including but not limited to walking and talking.
A mom friend of mine, Kristin, sent this in:
Camden (6) sleepwalks whenever he has to pee. He gets up and wanders the house holding "himself". We tell him to go to the bathroom and like one of those remote control toys that automatically changes direction when it hits the wall, every time we say his name he changes direction. It's really quite hilarious because his eyes are open and one would THINK he is awake.
One particular night, he is up wandering and after several verbal attempts, I have to get off the couch and point him in the direction of the bathroom. As he is peeing, he starts to sob. My 6yo is rather mature and tears don't come easily for him, so I head to the bathroom and meet him in the hallway. I bend down and ask him what's wrong.
"Hamene the mthemen thahame hamenaje." Said son is prone to mumble so I remind him to speak up and ask again why he is crying. I get the same unintelligible answer. I say "You aren't saying any real words to me. Do you even know why you are crying?" (as now I am surpressing a giggle). He says "No!" So I tell him to go to bed and he does. Had no recollection of it in the morning although he did laugh hysterically at himself. At least he didn't walk past the toilet to pee in the trash can this time... :)
A mom friend of mine, Kristin, sent this in:
Camden (6) sleepwalks whenever he has to pee. He gets up and wanders the house holding "himself". We tell him to go to the bathroom and like one of those remote control toys that automatically changes direction when it hits the wall, every time we say his name he changes direction. It's really quite hilarious because his eyes are open and one would THINK he is awake.
One particular night, he is up wandering and after several verbal attempts, I have to get off the couch and point him in the direction of the bathroom. As he is peeing, he starts to sob. My 6yo is rather mature and tears don't come easily for him, so I head to the bathroom and meet him in the hallway. I bend down and ask him what's wrong.
"Hamene the mthemen thahame hamenaje." Said son is prone to mumble so I remind him to speak up and ask again why he is crying. I get the same unintelligible answer. I say "You aren't saying any real words to me. Do you even know why you are crying?" (as now I am surpressing a giggle). He says "No!" So I tell him to go to bed and he does. Had no recollection of it in the morning although he did laugh hysterically at himself. At least he didn't walk past the toilet to pee in the trash can this time... :)
Wednesday, July 16, 2008
Whole House Nocturnal Panic
Whole House Nocturnal Panic: noun. An innocent situation that sends an entire household into half-asleep panic.
Last night at about 3:15am, catastrophe happened. Monkey Son #1 wakes up and has to use the bathroom, but for some reason goes into my and my husband's room. It could be that he meant to, as you can walk through our room and get to the bathroom, or he may have just been half-asleep. Anyway, our door makes a rather loud sound when opened, and that sends off the shock wave of the next 10 minutes.
Husband, dead asleep, hears the door open, and sits bolt upright in bed, yelling something that I can best describe as "Ahumna hmna hmna!" while shaking his head slightly, followed by him yelling, "He's sleep walking!" (although I don't think Husband was even awake as he said this). His yelling makes me wake up in full panic mode and I sit up, terrified and not knowing what is going on. I see Husband sitting up and yelling, and Monkey Son #1 in the doorway crying because of the yelling, and from the Monkeys' bedroom, I hear Monkey Son #2 wake up.
Brain starts working as Monkey Son #1 is screaming, "I have to go pee pee!" and crying his eyes out in the doorway. Ok, I calm everyone down, take Monkey Son #1 to the bathroom, and put him back to bed. As I'm in there, I see that Monkey Son #2 is in fact awake, peacefully sitting up in his crib and seemingly waiting for someone to just come and tell him everything is fine, go back to bed.
Who knew that a preschooler having to use the bathroom would send everyone into such a state?
Last night at about 3:15am, catastrophe happened. Monkey Son #1 wakes up and has to use the bathroom, but for some reason goes into my and my husband's room. It could be that he meant to, as you can walk through our room and get to the bathroom, or he may have just been half-asleep. Anyway, our door makes a rather loud sound when opened, and that sends off the shock wave of the next 10 minutes.
Husband, dead asleep, hears the door open, and sits bolt upright in bed, yelling something that I can best describe as "Ahumna hmna hmna!" while shaking his head slightly, followed by him yelling, "He's sleep walking!" (although I don't think Husband was even awake as he said this). His yelling makes me wake up in full panic mode and I sit up, terrified and not knowing what is going on. I see Husband sitting up and yelling, and Monkey Son #1 in the doorway crying because of the yelling, and from the Monkeys' bedroom, I hear Monkey Son #2 wake up.
Brain starts working as Monkey Son #1 is screaming, "I have to go pee pee!" and crying his eyes out in the doorway. Ok, I calm everyone down, take Monkey Son #1 to the bathroom, and put him back to bed. As I'm in there, I see that Monkey Son #2 is in fact awake, peacefully sitting up in his crib and seemingly waiting for someone to just come and tell him everything is fine, go back to bed.
Who knew that a preschooler having to use the bathroom would send everyone into such a state?
Wednesday, June 25, 2008
Nocturnal Refusal
Nocturnal Refusal: noun. The behavior or set of behaviors employed by a child in order to delay bedtime as long as possible.
Last night, our plan was simple. Have dinner, go to the grocery store, and put the kids to bed. Simple... in theory. What actually happened was that Monkey Son #2 got tired 2 hours before bedtime and took a nap, which meant a later bedtime. We had dinner later than we usually do, then went to the store, and came home. I let the kids play for a few minutes. Monkey Son #2 was cuddling with his lovey, and so I thought he was ready for bed and put him in his crib. Shortly after, I told Monkey Son #1 to go to bed.
Monkey Son #1: But it's still light out.
Mommy: There was a whole episode of Curious George devoted to this subject. You pay attention to everything else he does.
Monkey Son #1: I don't want to go to bed.
Mommy: Go brush your teeth.
Monkey Son #1 ran, I chased him to his room and carried him to the bathroom. After that, he started his nightly ritual of complaining that he's thirsty. He typically does this at least once, often twice or more. And because I want to be a good mom and don't want him to get dehydrated, I give him a drink most times he asks for it, even after bedtime, which only leads to a horde of cups hiding in the recesses of his room.
Shortly thereafter, Monkey Son #2 started giggling as Monkey Son #1 started doing who-knows-what. Probably dancing around and making animal noises. So, Monkey Son #2 decided it's time to get out of bed again and started to cry, demanding attention, playtime, and his sippy cup. This was followed by him grabbing at a library book, which I, being a, um, responsible patron, moved to the coffee table. Of course, he went after it, fell, and hit his nose on either the coffee table or the wicker basket next to it. Left a nice mark. After some I'm-sorry-you-got-hurt cuddling and a bath, he finally went to bed and I went to do the dishes.
And so the cycle continues, and tomorrow Monkey Son #2 will probably trick me, once again, into thinking he is ready for bed. Monkey Son #1 will still refuse to go to bed, still make an observation about the position of the sun, and will still be thirsty.
Last night, our plan was simple. Have dinner, go to the grocery store, and put the kids to bed. Simple... in theory. What actually happened was that Monkey Son #2 got tired 2 hours before bedtime and took a nap, which meant a later bedtime. We had dinner later than we usually do, then went to the store, and came home. I let the kids play for a few minutes. Monkey Son #2 was cuddling with his lovey, and so I thought he was ready for bed and put him in his crib. Shortly after, I told Monkey Son #1 to go to bed.
Monkey Son #1: But it's still light out.
Mommy: There was a whole episode of Curious George devoted to this subject. You pay attention to everything else he does.
Monkey Son #1: I don't want to go to bed.
Mommy: Go brush your teeth.
Monkey Son #1 ran, I chased him to his room and carried him to the bathroom. After that, he started his nightly ritual of complaining that he's thirsty. He typically does this at least once, often twice or more. And because I want to be a good mom and don't want him to get dehydrated, I give him a drink most times he asks for it, even after bedtime, which only leads to a horde of cups hiding in the recesses of his room.
Shortly thereafter, Monkey Son #2 started giggling as Monkey Son #1 started doing who-knows-what. Probably dancing around and making animal noises. So, Monkey Son #2 decided it's time to get out of bed again and started to cry, demanding attention, playtime, and his sippy cup. This was followed by him grabbing at a library book, which I, being a, um, responsible patron, moved to the coffee table. Of course, he went after it, fell, and hit his nose on either the coffee table or the wicker basket next to it. Left a nice mark. After some I'm-sorry-you-got-hurt cuddling and a bath, he finally went to bed and I went to do the dishes.
And so the cycle continues, and tomorrow Monkey Son #2 will probably trick me, once again, into thinking he is ready for bed. Monkey Son #1 will still refuse to go to bed, still make an observation about the position of the sun, and will still be thirsty.
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