He’s devious, I tell ya!
The sleep. The sleep. The sleep.
Or the lack thereof.
He’s been on a major “I have no intention of going to bed before 10:30” kick. And it’s becoming a bit tiresome. This attitude also includes shirking the responsibility of a nap. Does he not know that sleep is a wonderful mechanism that our body uses to rejuvenate itself? Does he not understand how addled one can be the next day when one tries to run around on an empty tank? Or is it just that he’s a child who doesn’t need much sleep?
I have no idea.
But the battle lines have been drawn. After a lecture from my husband the other night regarding answering his every entreaty (which I have indeed begun to do since they seemed so innocuous…potty, water, blankets, please take this toy out of my room, please turn off my Nemo light, please find my penguin, blankets, blinds are open!, blankets, potty again), the decision’s been made to ignore his requests in the same way we had to his screams when he was younger.
Of course this battle is being waged on the day Scott left for Boston for work. So it’s just me against the kid. And that kid has some serious ammunition. It’s called cuteness and it kills me.
Here’s what he’ll do. He calls for me: “Mommy!” Usually I would say, “What, Devin?” Then he would proceed to hand me a toy that’s in his room and ask me to remove it. Tonight I ignored him. (I warned him ahead of time that I would so I’m not THAT big of a jerk.) An example:
Mommy, where are you?
Mommy, I have something for you!
Mommy, come take my thing!!
Mommy? Why you not taking it?
Mommy, it for you. This one for Devin and this one for you.
Mommy. I. Have. Your. Thing!!!!
Mommy, why you not coming?
Lori, can you come take it, please?
Seriously. This really happened. And he called me Lori. I’m downstairs in the living room, dying of both laughter and sadness. Because it is so, so hard to ignore your kid when he’s desperately wanting to give you the Thing. A gift from his three-year-old heart. (Which, I discovered later, was an orange VW bug that he hurled over the gate when he realized I was not coming.)
I guess I won the battle. I didn’t have to go up and down the stairs thirty times tonight. And he went to bed closer to 9:30 than 10:30. But war is indeed hell. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.