Stay Up Late

Will has been a wee bit challenging in the bedtime department recently. He’s a sweet, wonderful boy until the last page of the last book, when he dons his battle gear, deftly and swiftly launching Operation Stay Up Late before we’re even out the door.

In just minutes he can unleash the “I’m thirsty!” attack, followed in rapid succession by “Rub my back!” “My stomach hurts!” “I don’t feel very well!” and “I can’t find my ______ (fill in the blank with all-of-a-sudden-precious objects).”

He has taken some different approaches recently, though. Two nights ago all was silent, and I went up with a smile on my face to peek in on what I thought were two sleeping boys. Instead, I found one sleeping angel in his crib in his bedroom, and one wide awake boy in the other room, quietly pouring baby shampoo all over his room.

And his hair.

And the walls.

And his animals.

And the floor.

And his bed.

After stripping him down, washing him off, changing the sheets and cleaning up the room, he fell asleep in his tracks, but not before cracking his head open on a wooden school bus. The bump on his head was probably equal in volume to the amount of shampoo he spread around the room, if you’re keeping track of things like that.

So last night when I was out at a banquet with some coworkers, enjoying awkward man hugs and cowboy hats, it was with some trepidation that I called home to check in. My husband assured me that everything was fine.

IF YOU DEFINE “FINE” as Will naked and doing laps around his bed, which he had moved into the middle of the room.

I hung up, and enjoyed the rest of my gin and tonic.

Got any ideas for us?