The kids needed an early night. Mabel had taken forever to go to sleep last night, and Dash had been late too, and was pretty tired from some big, serious, second-grade tests today and yesterday. (He got extra time for the reading, which was good.)
So at 7.50pm, there I was sitting on Mabel’s bed; toilet gone to, teeth brushed, no more snacks required. I read a chapter of her book. She was a baby tiger who needed to pounce on her bed. Pounce, pounce, pounce, she went, one way and the other. I stopped reading. I was dismissed.
I went into the hallway. She followed to pounce out there. I put her back in her room. She played hopscotch on the rug while I sat on the bed. I left the room. She played hopscotch on the carpet in the hall. I put her back in her room. She put on her silver party shoes, dumped everything from the floor on the bed, and tapdanced on the hardwoods.
I sat in my room and wondered how long this was going to go on. I’m telling myself it’s the half-year thing, because she’ll be five and a half next week; but realistically, who knows? She goes through phases of easy bedtimes and harder ones, and when bedtime is hard she sleeps till 7.30 the next morning, whereas when it’s easy she’s up at 6.00, so mostly it’s just a case of which end of the day we’d rather have it.
Eventually she called me back in and was ready to lie down and have me tell her a story. She was asleep before the fairy godmother had arrived; it was ten to ten.
I think I’ll go to bed now. Tomorrow is another day. Bedtime sucks.