My eldest child, shortly to turn 2 1/2, has always loved bedtime. Loved it. Enthusiastically hit the stairs at the appropriate time. Cooperated cheerfully during diapering and pj’ing. Happily settled down with his trusty thumb when the lights went off.
It is just possible that we have hit some sort of Developmental Snag in the bliss that is bedtime. Some sort of i-want-to-stay-up!- mechanism may (just may) be kicking in.
It is possible.
Tonight’s bedtime procedures:
Trooping up the stairs, Mommy and two little boys (Daddy works late).
Teeth brushed.
Faces washed.
Overnight diapers in place.
Pajamas on.
Blinds and curtains closed.
Noise-making fan on high.
Baby monitor glowing red.
Lamp on, overhead lights off.
Pacifiers strategically placed in crib in case of overnight insecurities.
Two clean and pajama’d boys deposited on the eldest’s twin bed for books, prayers, songs.
One Mommy gazing at these beautiful creatures sitting side by side with expectant and happy faces. Settling onto the bed beside them. And then one pair of eyes gets a little wider and brighter. A lip trembles just slightly. A small voice breaks the Motherhood Nirvana moment.
‘We are going to SWEEP??’
Yes, Baby. We are going to sleep. Just like always.
‘We will NOT go downstairs??’
No, Darling. That’s why we came up to brush teeth and get in p.j.’s. That’s why the room is dark and we are going to say our prayers. We had a nice day today. We will have another nice day tomorrow.
Pacified, he accepted my answers. Wiggled and giggled while his baby brother nursed, then smiled at me as I laid baby down and burnt some rug tiptoed out of the room.
But, I am thinking, a window has been cracked open, in this oh-so-easy bedtime ritual of ours.
