I have struggled to get my three-year-old daughter to sleep at her bedtime. Recently, I made a new rule that she could only have “one call” – meaning, she could only call me into her bedroom once after we said goodnight.
Here is the transcript of my first attempt.
At 8 p.m., I hug and kiss her goodnight and leave her room.
| 8:02 | K: Mommy, can I have a hug and a kiss? Me: Are you sure you want to use your ‘one call’ on a hug and a kiss? K: Yes! |
| . | |
| 8:08 | K: Mommy. Mommy! Mommy mommy mommy mommy mommy mommy mommy mommy mommy mommy mommy mommy mommy mommy mommy mommy mommy |
| . | |
| 8:09 | K: mommy mommy mommy mommy. MOM. EEE. MOMMY. MAH. MAH. MAMA. Ma ma ma ma mo mo ma ma mo mo ma ma mo mo. MOMMY. |
| . | |
| 8:10 | Silence from K and premature victory smugness from me. |
| . | |
| 8:14 | K: Look what I found! It’s from those chocolates! Do we have any more chocolates? You know, those chocolates? Do we have any more? |
| . | |
| 8:15 | K: Mommy! Mommy! Answer me! Answer me! Answer me! Answer me! Answer me! Answer me! Answer me! Answer me! Answer me! Answer me! Answer me! Answer me! Answer me! Answer me! Answer me! Answer me! |
| . | |
| 8:16 | K: (Crying. Like, full-on my-dog-just-died wailing) Me: Sweetie, you used your one call on a hug and a kiss, so I’m not going to answer you. We will talk about it in the morning. K: (Whimpering) |
| . | |
| 8:17 | Silence. |
| . | |
| 8:21 | K: Mommy. Feetsies cold. Feetsies cold. Feetsies cold. Mommy. Feetsies cold. |
| . | |
| 8:23 | K: (Crying) Feetsies cold! Feetsies cold! Feetsies cold! Feetsies cold! Feetsies cold! Feetsies cold! |
| . | |
| 8:25 | I close her door. I’m suuuuuper annoyed right now. |
| . | |
| 8:26 | She gets out of bed and opens her door. Gets back into bed. |
| . | |
| 8:27 | She gets out of bed to see what I’m doing. Gets back into bed. |
| . | |
| 8:31 | K: Mommy. Mommy. Mommy! Moooooooommmmmmmmmmyyyyy! |
THIS is the point where I wish I could throw my hands up and say to my imagined husband, “I can’t take this. YOU deal with it.” But of course, that’s not possible.
On this night, I breathed deeply and pushed on. After a little more of the same, she was sleeping at 8:55.
To get through tough phases like this, I try to imagine what K will be like when she’s a teenager. Maybe she’ll shut herself in her room like I did when I was a teenager, and I’ll be the one at her bedroom door saying, “Answer me! Answer me! Answer me!”
Maybe I’ll have to fight to wake her up in the morning, and maybe when I do, she’ll stomp to the bathroom and close the door rather than running into my arms for a hug.
Suddenly, the bedtime battle doesn’t seem so bad.
“rather than running into my arms for a hug.”
Dammit, you just HAD to put that in there….