This is a story about bedtime.
We got lucky for a few nights when we introduced the rule that after 8pm, the floor turns into lava and she can’t get off the bed.
But, like all things novel, after a bit of time it wears off and we’re back to chasing her to bed. I look up at the clock and it’s been an hour since she was supposed to go to bed and now she’s down playing the “I’m scared” card.
Yeah, nice try. Let’s go to bed.
I get her all tucked in and as I’m just about to say goodnight when we realize that the one stuffed animal she must have to go to bed with is nowhere to be found.
I want to give a kudos to BW who is smart enough to go to bed before the child does so I get to experience the joys of bedtime.
This thing could be anywhere. Sometimes it gets downstairs on the couch or sometime even the kitchen table.
We even asked the dog.
Sigh. I go and get the flashlight because my eyesight in the dark isn’t what it used to be and we look in the usual places:
The dog bed.
Under the bed. We find a lot of other stuff under the bed though.
In the dresser. Nope.
The next step is to strip the bed thinking that perhaps it will be in the blankets and sheets,- but still no love.
Now it’s pushing an hour and a half past bedtime and dear old dad is starting to get a little cranky about finding this toy.
It could be under the myriad of stuffed animals on the bedroom floor that have been tucked in with each of them having their own blanket and lo and behold we found it!
By this time, she knows she’s worn out Dad’s patience looking for this toy so she grabs it, hops in the bed and pulls up the covers over her chest and tells me goodnight.
Goodnight, sleep tight.
I know I will miss these days, but I wonder what I will do with my time when I don’t have to look for stuffed animals anymore?
Oh, right. I’ll be driving her to the Mall instead.
Keep Searching,
TH and Co.