First post! I will get things poppin’ with an ongoing problem in our house – the bedtime routine.
As a three year old, B was your typical three year old boy. Or so I am told anyway. Before having kids, I wasn’t really up on how toddlers were. Getting him to go to bed varies in levels of sucktacularness and ridiculousness each night. The highest level warranted their own awards, which I call the Bedtime WTF Awards. For example, one night, here were the nominees:
1) B is screaming for help. I go to check on him. As I open his door, he sprints by like Usain Bolt, stops on a dime at his bed, grabs a book and flings it across the room like a discus. He then goes “Please get my book, daddy!”
2) Later, B is screaming and banging his door, I check on him again:
B (tears running down his face, sobbing) – ‘Your hair is on my door. Get it.’
I don’t have hair. I fake wipe the door.
B (sobbing more) – ‘No! The other side of the door!’
More fake wiping.
B (voice suddenly normal) – ‘Put the hair in your pocket! Will you put it in the garbage? For the garbage truck? What colour’s the garbage truck?’
3) Later, yet more screaming, I go to his room again:
Me – ‘What’s wrong now?’
B- ‘The cows outside. They’re mooing. The mooing is scaring me!’
Me – ‘We don’t live on a farm. There are no cows outside!’
And the winner is…no one.
The loser? Me……