Bedtime is not always the happiest time at Chez Wink. I was never good at math and the introduction of a second child, and the opposing nap and bedtime schedules therein, switched our life from arithmetic to some sort of cold fusion calcu-nometry that I am flunking. Hard core.
I can’t get behind crying it out.
We maxed out our co-sleeping threshold at 14 months.
The relentless “one more story” and “I need to frow a big one on the potty” burn my fuse pretty fast sometimes.
I try though, I really try.
Tonight I was on my own since Sean went back into work. I went into it thinking I’d let it take the time it took. The tantrum before we headed up seemed to forecast a not so fun time. We went up to the bathroom and performed the tooth brushing, face washing, good night to everyone in the bathroom ritual. Ok, she did not say good night to Ryan Reynolds who is on the cover of this month’s Men’s Health or something like that. She did however say good night to the three princesses on the tooth paste, the Dora and Diego on her toothbrush, the Dora, Boots, Backpack and Map on her toilet seat, the My Little Pony on Avery’s tooth brush, the dancing girl on the towel (it’s a ballerina, but I made the mistake of calling it a dancing girl, which now looks like some sort of brothel linen as I see it written on the screen), the duck on the faucet and to the three princesses on the tooth paste again.
Then we went to her room, tip-toeing past Avery’s room so as not to wake her.
SHHH, MAMA, AVERY’S SLEEPIN’. SHHHHHH! NIGHT NIGHT AVERY. SHHH, SEE YOU LATER IN THE MORNING!
Ok, Briar let’s change your diaper.
Change my diaper. Changin’ my dyyyy-puuuurrrrr.
Shhh, honey, Avery is sleeping.
Shh, Avery is sleeping. Mama read the bears. MAMA READ THE BEARS. MAMA. READ. THE. BEARS.
Ok, babe, let’s just get these pants on.
Minnie. Oooh, Minnie. OOH, Mii-iii-iii-nniiii-eeee pants.
Yep, shh, here you go. Let’s take your shirt off. Arms up.
She lifted her arms and I pulled her shirt up. Her little torso wiggled as she stuck her arms stright up and I pulled the shirt over her shoulders.
She lifted her little body as I pulled the shirt over her chin and up past her head. A stubborn little chin poked out of the neck, then a happy lower lip. I pulled the shirt toward me and it moved ever so slightly, revealing her upper lip.
I pulled the shirt skyward and watched her upper lip move up as the neck caught on her nose.
I gave the shirt a tug and it passed over her nose. Her little mouth continued to be stretched toward her forehead, but rather than panicking she was laughing, albeit in a very elongated way.
I leaned back in an exaggerated pull.
I’m pulling, Briar. Pull.
The shirt was now around her forhead, just below her eyebrows. Her face was alive with joy as her eyes watched me leaning back. As I went further, she pulled the other way, creating a very surprised and happy look on her face.
Are you pulling, Briar?
She just laughed. I gave her a nod to let her know I was going to really pull. I gave the shirt a tug and it happened. Briar fell back into the cushions of the chair and I went ass over tea cups, falling off the ottoman and onto the floor, the shirt in hand. When I popped my head up Briar was still blinking her eyes back into place. We looked at each other and absolutely fell apart laughing. And, to her credit, she laughed relatively quietly. After that it was pretty easy to get her to go to sleep. Walking downstairs I felt good about myself, and was extra thankful that for a change I had her in the chair instead of the ottoman for the diaper change, otherwise it might have been a trip to the ER.