Over the last few months we implemented a bedtime opportunity where each child gets a designated day, once a week, when they’re allowed to fall asleep in our bed.
They look forward to it all week long.
Sometimes, they’re excitement for said opportunity keeps them up past our desired timing, and is a cause for some confusing and irrational conversation.
And, Banshee, as of late, is requiring a little more bedtime redirection.
One evening last week, on her designated day we had quite the conversation.
I’m sitting on the couch where my husband and I are watching Whose Line Is It Anyway? A favorite of ours.
I hear the beginning whimpers and whining echoing down the hallway from our bedroom.
I wait to see if she will chill…that’s a no. (That little day of hope – squelched).
Her tone and volume increase so I reluctantly decide to check in.
She explains to me she doesn’t want Louie (the build a bear with her remaining pacifiers in her paws).
“Ok, do you want me to take her?”
“No! I don’t want her!” She quickly responded with emotion.
“Ok, do you want me to move her?”
“No!” She hugs her tight. “I want her!”
“Ok.” *Looking around in confusion* “Goodnight!”
I begin exiting the room.
*whining restarts*
I turn around.
“What do you need?”
“I don’t want her!” She whined.
“Ok, want me to put her on a different pillow?”
“No! I want her!” She swiftly added.
“Ok, Banshee, how can I help you? Do you want to keep her?”
“No!” She quickly said.
“Banshee, what do you need?”
*whining*
I reach for Louie.
“Nooooo!”
“Goodness, Banshee, where do you want Louie to go?” I respond with great frustration.
*whining and exhausted crying*
“Put your head on the pillow, and get under the covers.”
*she abides*
I tuck her and Louie in, and of course being very careful to not cover Louie’s face with the blankets.
*sniffles*
I say goodnight and begin to leave the room.
“Wait! I wanna give you a hug!”
*we awkwardly hug because she’s tucked in*
I begin leaving the room again.
“I wanna give you a kiss!” She says in a sweet voice.
I return for a sniffly, undoubtedly snotty kiss.
I walk back into the living room with hands on my head accompanied with a look of utter confusion and exhaustion.
“That chick is tired.” I say to my husband.
And, don’t think she fell asleep right after that either.
It was another 30 minutes.
Finally, I was tired and ready to sleep.
As I’m readying myself, more whining ensues because there is a pillow she doesn’t like sitting on the bed.
*eyeroll*
This unlikable pillow is just sitting on the other side, not hurting anyone.
Another firm response and additional tucking in and we were finally done.
Sheesh.
Seriously, bedtime over here is an Olympic sport.
lardcupcakes.com 