I don’t know what bedtime is like at your house, but in my house everyone under four feet tall gets a huge surge of energy an hour before they’re supposed to go to bed. Ironically no one ever uses this energy to clean up their toys.
This surge is so powerful it’s the same as a category four hurricane. Their gale force winds produce ear piercing noises so loud they can shatter the sound barrier with a single note. These winds also have the ability to vaporize whole towns.
It’s exhausting. To make matters worse, like a pair of mutant zombies, they don’t stay down. On any number of nights they use one or more of the following bedtime stalling tactics:
The Drink of Water
After they ask for 80 glasses of water in a five minute time span, they take forever to drink it. It would take less time for a shellfish to explore space than for my toddlers to finish a half of a glass of water in a timely manner.
The Potty Run
When they do finish their water drinking Tour de France, they have to use the bathroom twenty times and pee out enough to create an entire sixth ocean.
The Sneaky Escape
This is when they quietly leave their room and hide behind the couch cushions. I’m not sure why they do this. I’m also not sure why they eat barbecue sauce for dinner, so…
The Third Bedtime Story
Obviously this request comes as soon as I open the second bedtime story book that also happens to be the longest book we own.
The Toddler Rave
When I walk into their room and both toddlers are jumping on the beds while every toy that makes noise and lights up is going off all at once.
The Action-Adventure Series of Indiana Toddler and the Bunk Bed of Doom
It’s pretty much exactly what you’re thinking.
This is when they quietly build a Batcave out of plush toys, pillows, and blankets so they can wait at the bottom for the Bat Signal, which is Mommy or Daddy opening a container of ice cream.
The I’m Not Tired
This is when they do everything they can to stay awake except tape their eyelids open. And that’s only because they can’t reach the tape.
As I sit here and finish writing this, I can hear footsteps running down the hall. They think they’re being sneaky, but they’re not. A herd of buffalo could sneak down the hall quieter than either of my kids. Mostly because a herd of buffalo wouldn’t stop to dump out a bin of toys en route.
So, I’ll sit here for five more minutes then trudge upstairs to begin the daunting task of the potty, water, and cave diving tactics that is “bedtime” in this house. Maybe if I give them a few extra minutes, they’ll blow their gale force winds so hard their toys will get put away. Or, maybe I should just crawl into their Batcave with them and call it a night.