Bedtime is often a stressful chore for all involved. In order to keep everyone's patience in check, I try to do a little give and take. But every time I give the kids an extra five minutes, they take fifteen and my sanity.
The other night, Emma was upset because her sheets were messy. I told her to try and fix it herself, and that the sheets wouldn't be so messy if she would stop doing a one woman show of Five Little Monkeys on her bed.
"My sheets are messy!" cried Emma.
I ignored her.
"My sheets! My sheets! Fix my sheets!" demanded Emma.
I started to play NBA Jam on my ipad.
"Fix! My! Sheets!" screamed Emma.
And then I heard through the monitor, Andrew chiming in. "My sheets aren't messy, Emma," said Andrew.
"My sheets! They are messy!" continued Emma.
"Emma," said a snarky Andrew. "I like my sheets. Look!"
Although I found this pretty damn amusing, I figured it was time to intervene. I went upstairs and carried Emma into our bedroom so she could calm down without Andrew chiming in with his two cents.
As I placed Emma into my bed, I said, "Emma. Calm down. What's wrong?"
"My...HUH...sheets...SNIFF...are...GASP...messy!" said a hyperventilating Emma.
"Emma," I said as I stroked her sweaty forehead. "You just need to calm down and go to sleep. Please be a good girl."
And then, all the way from the other bedroom, I heard Andrew shout, "I'm in bed! I'm a good boy!"
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