One night, I was listening to Samuel L Jackson reading Go The F**k to Sleep, with K. Great story, highly recommended. B must have been listening secretly and taking notes. That night’s Bedtime WTF Award nominees:
1) I put J on the floor in B’s room, and attempt to change B into his PJs. When I have him down to his diaper, he jumps up and starts doing laps around J.
Me – ‘Chill out! You need to calm down, it’s bedtime!’
B – ‘It’s not bedtime. It’s wake up and play cars time!’
I get him changed and settled. But then he gets on the floor and starts playing with a school bus:
Me – ‘OK, time to get into bed.’
B – ‘But the bus is just going to Ontario.’
Huh? While I’m looking at him confused, he gets up, pats J on the head, calls her a ‘handsome girl’, and gets into bed…..
2) but before I can leave, he hops out and starts screeching. Like loud, obnoxious, high pitched screeching:
Me – ‘Stop that!!’
B – ‘Does it hurt your ears?’
Me – ‘Yes!!’ He picks up a toy ladder and starts banging his bed with it.
B – ‘Does that hurt your ears?’
Me – ‘No.’
B – ‘So I can keep doing it?’
Me – ‘What? No! It’s time to go to bed!’
3) J is crying now, so we leave and close his door. B starts screaming frantically that he has to go potty. He never wants to use the potty, but what am I going to say? I let him out, and off he goes. I go back to J. B is quiet for a few minutes. I start to change her into her PJs, then all of the sudden:
B – ‘Daddy! I’m pooping!’
I turn around, and B is walking towards me, bow legged, like he just got off a horse, with his diaper in his hand! I run to him:
Me – ‘No, you have to go in the potty!’
I get to him, and look down his pants expecting the worst……but nothing. Phew! Glad I avoided that mess.
B – ‘I pooped in the potty! I get a treat!’
Well this just keeps getting better, right? No mess, and he went in toilet? Sweet! So I go to his potty to check…..and nothing. Well, nothing but a roll of toilet paper which he unrolled and jammed in it!
4) B refuses to go to bed, and STILL says that he needs to use the potty. OK, whatever. J is still screaming, and half in her PJs, so I leave him again. And again, more silence for a few minutes. I get J changed and settled, and go check on him. B is sitting on his potty, grinning, with his pants and the potty toilet seat on his head. It looked like a ghetto tophat. Or like something a princess would wear to a wedding.
5) I get B dressed, and he goes back to his room. He starts whining for his toy police car that he likes to takes to bed, and tells me that it’s downstairs. I go downstairs, he follows. I look around, no luck. Then B tells me it’s in our bed. Upstairs we go. I look around our room, nothing. B starts crying. I walk by the bathroom, and notice the shower curtain is pulled back. The police car is in the tub.
B -‘Why’s my police car taking a bath?’
He goes back to his room. I leave, he’s cool for a while. Then he starts screaming for me, so I check on him again:
Me – ‘What’s wrong?’
B (looks at my feet) – ‘Where are your socks?’
Me – ‘I took them off, my feet were hot.’
B – ‘I need socks. My feet are hot.’
Me – ‘No you don’t, and no they aren’t.’
B – ‘Is a spider wearing my socks?’
And I, as usual, have no idea what that means.
Tonight’s winner – we’re going to need more toilet paper, so maybe Shopper’s Drug Mart?
Tonight’s loser – Me