Monday, March 1, 2010

Bedtime Shenanigans

The Emergency Room is calling my name. This is what I found upon racing into my daughters' room the other day during what was supposed to be nap time. In case it's not evident, they both climbed in the same crib that offers access to a ledge where they continued to inch over and at some point would have been dangling from it without the crib as a safety net had I not lunged downstairs thanks to our video monitor, which before buying I predicted was about as necessary as a wipes warmer.

Of course, as discussed previously, it's hard to convince a toddler what they've just done is wrong if mommy whips out her cell phone to photograph the evidence for the amusement of strangers.

These girls, who have been excellent at slumber just like their mother up until this point, now have a million excuses why they can't nap or retire to their cribs in the evening or what my own mother used to refer to as "bedtime shenanigans."

The Direct Approach: "I not tired."

The Antagonistic Approach: "I NOT TIRED!"

The Thou Protest Too Much Approach: "No night night! No night night! No niiiigggghhhtttt niiiigggghhhhhtttt!"

The Starving-On-the-Verge-of-Death Approach: "I hungry! Hungry hungry hungry. Cookies? Lollipop? Ice cream?" When that doesn't work they start listing more healthy food choices: "Apple? Carrot? Squash?"

The Mirage-Inducing Thirst Approach: "I thirsty! Water! Water! Water!" (This is followed by them being provided with a cup of water they sip gingerly at their leisure, very slowly, until it's all gone, about an hour later.)

The Wet / We Confuse Our Pronouns Approach: "I wet! Change you!"

The Scared Approach: "I scared! Too dark!" In order of self-reporting, they are afraid of the following: thunder, lightning, a choo choo chugging through their room and a rather rotund child named Charles we happen upon from time to time.

The What-Are-Ya-Gonna-Do-About-It Approach: Climbing out of the crib, opening their bedroom door, climbing up the stairs to find me and announcing nonchalantly: "Hi."

The I'm Gonna Break My Leg Approach: As illustrated above.

We're veering into big girl bed territory. I was hoping to stave that off until age 5. Sigh.


  1. I suppose it's not socially acceptable to turn the cribs upside down? You know... like the infamous crib net doohickey? Fire hazard, schmire schmazard.

  2. I get the "No bed?", said as a question. Then the bellowing starts but most nights if I just put her down in the crib, tell her good night and walk out she settles down. Of course she has not tried to escape from the crib as of yet. I am sure that day is coming soon. Good luck. I agree with Gilsner about flipping the cribs over. ;) But then I will never win mother of the year.

  3. you're screwed:)

  4. OMG! I experience the same every day with my singleton. It makes my head want to explode. I think it is fantastic you got a picture. THAT is a true illustration of real life with toddlers.

  5. I got nothin' for ya. But thank you for the huge laugh. I needed it.

  6. Oh, it's terrible how they get about bedtime at this age isn't it? I believe it's all on purpose to drive us to the brink of insanity. That being said, go buy a zoo cage, not a big girl bed. I'm just sayin...

  7. I can't even imagine how crazy it can be times two. My 16-month-old is getting to that stage, and she just doesn't seem to get that mom needs her bedtime to happen even more than she does!! Good thing that they are cute, eh?

  8. "All done, mama!!" Is my twins' first go to response to the crib. Then I get the water request too and the other shenanigans. But thank God they haven't figured out how to climb out yet because then? We're toast.

  9. Yikes! That scene is all kinds of trouble!

    I know what you mean by sending mixed messages to your kids when they do something wrong: let's just say I laugh at inappropriate times, like when she drops a crayon and says, "God damn it!" Bad, I know. . .

  10. I can't help but laugh. All those excuses sound very familiar! My personal favorite is when my 2-year-old is doing something wildly inappropriate, like trying to climb up over the back of the couch to get onto the changing table, so she can stand on it and reach the top of the bookshelf so she can get the M&Ms I stashed up there as potty rewards. So I scream, "No, Matilda! No climbing on the couch! That's dangerous! Owie!" And she looks at me with such an earnest expression and says, "Otay, Mommy. I listen. Otay." I have to cover my mouth and turn away before I bust out laughing in her face.

    If they weren't so cute, I swear they'd never survive.