Last night was a battle of wills between myself and Jake. Jake does not like to sleep (I have only myself to blame for this--I don't recall ever liking to sleep until I hit the teenage years). Bedtime in his mind should be somewhere between 10 p.m. and...never...
I on the other hand have this expectation of the night: Jake to bed at least by nine, Becky to relax for the rest of the evening.
So, last night we were beginning the second hour of bedtime. Stories were read, the potty was peed in, teeth were brushed, and now we were getting frustrated. Well, I was getting frustrated, Jake was getting more and more amused by my frustration.
"Mommy, I have to poop," he said to me, knowing full well that I would never in a million years say, "No you don't." What kind of crazy mom would risk poop in the bed?? So, up we go to the potty.
He sits. He sings. He laughs. He sings. He sits. He jumps down. "I don't have to poop."
Now I'm not a desperate woman generally. Very little causes me to go over the edge (if you know me, of course you know I'm lying), but this: hour two and no progress toward sleep. This was too much. I pulled out the big guns.
"Jake," (pause, sigh with resignation), "Let's pray." Jake and I have ventured in and out of churches here lately, and he seems to like this prayer thing. He bowed his head, clasped his hands together, and closed his eyes.
"Dear God, please make Jake understand how important it is for him to go to sleep now. And please don't let Mommy get frustrated. Anymore than she already is."
I looked at Jake. "Anything you want to add?"
He opened his eyes and stared thoughtfully around the bathroom. Closing his eyes again, he added to my prayer. "And God, thank you for my new Blues Clues toothpaste. It tastes good and I love it."
Amen.
Posted by Becky at November 8, 2004 10:03 AM