One More

My husband and I take turns tucking our son into bed at night, and like most parents, we have a bedtime routine. At 7 pm, it's time to wind down, get into jammies, and begin the process of bedtime. For consistency purposes, we've agreed to 2 books a night, followed by songs once he's tucked in and the lights are out. Our son gets to choose the books, and the parent gets to choose the songs. Pretty simple, and it works.

The down side of having a routine is that our little monkey knows exactly what's coming down the pike, and has begun his own routine of "peaceful resistance". His opening gambit is pretty straightforward, "Can I play for 5 more minutes?". If he's been a very good boy, the answer is yes, but most nights this request is shot down. Unphased by rejection, his next move is to head over to his enormous Matchbox car collection and begin to rifle through them, not playing, mind you! No, he's selecting a car to bring upstairs to bed. Of course, the selection process takes 5 minutes, but you can't risk making a wrong choice.

Once we are upstairs, he's off like a shot into his bedroom to do one of two things. 1. Dance and sing in front of the full length mirror (clothing optional) or 2. Dash into the tent we've erected in there and fasten the closures, giggling madly. Either way, we've added another 2 to 3 minutes to the pajama-and-potty process.

When book selection time comes, our boy is no fool! He bypasses most of the 12 page Golden Books in favor of the gigantic, 70 page Animal Atlas. When it's my night, we go through the pages and say which animal we're "thankful" for. We each pick one per page, and I will admit that on nights when I am especially tired I will "accidentally" turn a few pages at a time (I consider this a counter-resistance measure).

After being turned down for "one more" book, we'll move on to the songs. I like to sing the classics, like Rock-A-Bye Baby. My son always begs me to "sing it fast while you're tickling me!" No problem. When the songs are over, there's nothing left to do but say goodnight, and that's when he really steps up his game.

One more sip of water, one more song, one more trip to the potty. With every "one more", I feel myself getting more and more exasperated. Just when I think I'm going to blow, he'll melt my heart into a million pieces:

"Mommy, can I have one more hug?"

And with that, the war is over, and I vow to give him an extra 10 minutes the next time it's my turn tuck him in. I'm such a sucker!