Two nights ago I nearly tossed my youngest into his crib!
Now don’t go calling Child Protective Services yet. I didn’t really toss him (though he’s a string bean and light enough so I could if I wanted to). I gently held him, rocked him a bit, and placed him in bed — against his wishes.
He was mad.
It was past bedtime by about 30 minutes. I was tired. He was tired. I felt bad that he wasn’t ready – emotionally – for sleep. But physically we were both spent.
I told him night night and I love you.
I closed the doors, expecting screams.
There was a brief cry.
In 15 seconds, all I heard was silence.
Amazing. He really HAD wanted to go to bed. But for a half hour he sang out a high-pitched mantra of “no bed! no night night! NO NIGHT NIGHT!”
and I remembered, I AM the Parent. I KNOW when it’s time to tuck the tiny people into la-la land. They do NOT know, or at least they will not EVER acknowledge when they are overtired and donewiththeday.
While not a sleepy love story of a bedtime with books and hugs and snuggles, it was still in its own way sweet. Moving on to the big brother was a piece of cake. Teeth brushed, pjs on, potty used, he requested and received a “snuggle party” — a two-minute snuggle in his bed and a song. Generally I sing “Mockingbird”, but sometimes, “You Are My Sunshine”.
Tonight I sang both.
Eyes closed, he was pretty much out before I closed the door.
It was his last night as a four year old.
Welcome, Five Year Old.
I am so very happy to meet you.