I never knew there were so many excuses at bedtime. Excuses whose sole purpose is to delay the inevitable. And try as I might to circumnavigate all possible outlets I always end up with a battle at bedtime.
Tonight has been no exception. The Boy persuaded me against my better judgement that really there ought to be two bedtime stories one for him and one for his younger brother
“You know it’s only fair Mum because Bog Boy’s stories are so short so if we have two we get a proper read…”
Stories went on for an extra five minutes despite the fact that “Mum you’re reading them too fast! Start again…”
The stories were duly read at a slower pace then, just as I came to the final paragraph, The Boy remembered
“But Mum we haven’t brushed our teeth!”
So that entailed a further five minutes rampage up and down the corridors.
I began to twitch.
Both boys scampered into bed after a quick roar from me to get a move on…
Then there were the cuddles and kisses and huggies before Bog Boy started and exclaimed
“Build a bear! Where’s my build a bear?”
Ten minutes of hunting high and low located Build-a-Bear (Oscar, Mum his name is OSCAR!!!!). Ten minutes of hunting high and low located OSCAR exactly where Bog Boy had left him, under his duvet.
I glared at my boys daring them to utter one more word as I finally got them into bed. Then the glorious relief that comes with a job done, the end of a day; small boys all quiet and tucked up and safe until the morning which seems a terribly wonderful lolling way off. I cool glass of something a sit down brain allowed to go zonk. Heaven on earth.
I can hear breathing. Slightly snuffling breathing. I try not to look. If I keep watching the TV the breather will go. But he doesn’t and my littlest one says:
“Mum! Mum I need a huggie!”
“But I’ve just done that off to be with you now. Back to bed!”
“But Mum what if I have a bad dream?”
“What do you mean?”
“What if I have a bad dream because you haven’t given me a huggie?”
“But I did!”
“But I need a huggie and if you don’t give me one I WILL have a bad dream.”
The thought of him having a bad dream and waking me at 1 am is too much to bear and he little toad gets what he wants.
I tuck him back up in bed
“Mum,” he says
“Can I have a dog tonight? Can I have Tigger?”
Grasping at anything that will keep him in bed and keep him there all night I agree with a caveat: “You can have a dog if the door is shut and you have to stay there all night, no bad dreams!”
“Oh I won’t have any bad dreams with Tigger, 'cos he will give me huggies all night….”
I don’t think I will ever win the battle at bedtime….