Dean and I are attending a parenting class with a lot of other couples in our church with young children. My parents are brave and kind enough to babysit for us AND feed the children dinner (one of whom refuses to take a bottle) AND put them both to bed. When we got home at quarter after eight, Molly was asleep, having cried furiously at being denied her nightly feeding, and my mom was still upstairs with Frankie, having spent the last 50 minutes on an obviously belabored bedtime routine that preyed on her grandmotherly tenderness. As she shut the door to come down, we heard the familiar shout "TUCK ME IN LIKE A BURRITO" and so I went upstairs to play the heavy.
Me: Frankie, Oma already tucked you in. It is bedtime. Lie down, please.
Frankie: Mom. Can I stay up just a COUPLE of hours?
Me: No, Frankie, it is time to sleep.
Frankie: (With desperation) PLEASE. PLEASE JUST A COUPLE OF HOURS. (Brightly) Then I will sleep a couple of hours. I will!
Me: I'm sorry, no. I will stay and sing a song and then it is time to sleep.
Frankie: Sing a song about choices.
Me: I don't know a song about choices.
Frankie: PLEASE. PLEASE SING THE SONG ABOUT CHOICES.
Me: (Singing tuneless ditty about making bad and good choices) OK, it is time to be tucked in.
Frankie: I NEED TO SEE MY CLOCK. I CAN'T SEE MY CLOCK. IT IS TOO CLOSE TO MY FACE. I DON'T LIKE IT SO CLOSE TO MY FACE. I CAN'T SEE IT!!!!! I CAN'T SEE IT!!!! (Much anguished wailing and tears streaming down face).
Me: (Adjusting clock to eye level) OK. Now turn over so I can tuck you in.
Frankie: I just need to wipe my eyes (Spends at least a solid minute ostentatiously wiping eyes with sleeves). PLEASE. STAY HERE WHILE I WIPE MY EYYYYYYYYYES!
Let me just say that they did not, in fact, cover this in the parenting class as of yet.
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