Bedtime used to be a pretty minimal affair.
Supper. Bath time. Bottle. Brush Teeth. Stories. Upstairs. 3 Songs. Bed.
The End. Tah Dah.
Now? Bedtime is Epic.
1. Supper usually served to a child who is either shoving food into her mouth double-fisted or attempting to swivel her head 180 degrees while screaming, "Nooooooooooooo." Apparently, soup is a finger food. Who knew?
2. Bathtime is still pretty good. Provided you turn on the bubble machine and you have the water at just the right temperature. If it deviates more than a half degree from the ideal, bathtime can degenerate quickly into something that makes even the most seasoned parent wonder why the hell they're putting themselves through this.
3. Milk is always good. Well...99.9% of the time it is good but mostly this is a moment of calm in an otherwise crazy night.
4. Brushing teeth? It is a crap shoot. Some nights it is giggles and fun (Brynn's tooth brush plays "Party in my Tummy" from Yo Gabba Gabba) and other nights I'm sure someone from DCFS is going to bust into the house to take Brynn away from us. Yes, she screams THAT loud.
5. Stories. Sometimes we have the time and energy and sometimes...we don't. Usually that depends on how 4 went.
6. Upstairs. Surprisingly, this is the one part - other than her bottle - that Brynn NEVER fights.
7. 3 Songs...or 4 songs...or 5 songs...or... Scott always ducks out after 3 but I'm often left dealing with a kid who opens her big blues as wide as they'll go and who lisps out "I loo you" just before asking "mo song?" I usually end up singing myself out long before she runs out of cute but eventually I disengage, give her a kiss, tuck her in, and close the door while she still hopefully asks for "Mo Song."
Then, I shuffle downstairs, fall onto the couch next to Scott and together we fall into a TV induced coma.
How Romaaaaaantic.
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