Sunday, February 3, 2008

Um, excuse me?

Going to bed has become somewhat of a burden lately. My son insists that I do the whole ritual and frankly I am too tired at the end of the day to deal with even the tiniest bit of misbehavior. Something as stupid as a random comment during a story can sometimes set me off. Well, the comments are never random because he says the same freaking comment at the same time on the same page every single night and if I don't respond with a yes or a no or whatever might be appropriate affirmation of his observation, he continues to make the comment again repeatedly until I acknowledge. Maybe that's what sets me off. Trust me, it's super annoying.

And he's kind of like a dog when he settles in because he sort of wiggles around a lot and crawls in cirlces on the bed until he gets in just the right position. I try to be patient but for the love of ginger I just want to go to bed myself so put a move on it brother! And then invariably he needs to blow his nose, or pee, or drink tea because his fwoat hurts. It just goes on and on. The last few nights were particularly annoying so I got up and left him in the middle of our ritual and he, of course, started sobbing. Today we promised that we wouldn't fight. And so far so good, although he sounds a little restless in there. At any moment he could come out and ask "are you checking you mensenges?" (My computer is right outside his room).

Tonight though I had to laugh because I was sitting in the bathroom reading a magazine when he peaked in.

Him: Um, excuse me?
Me: Yes, honey...
Him: I can't find the blanket for my baby sister.

I bought him a doll house for his third birthday and I bought a little baby and baby furniture set to go in it. He calls the little doll his baby sister and lately he's been putting her to sleep and checking to see if she's crying and nursing her (that's the best - him holding an inch long wooden doll up to his nipple). So I guess he's putting her to sleep right now. I don't really care if he's not sleeping as long as he's not bugging me and not waking up his sister. The real one - not the wooden one. This doll is actually giving us great insight into his perception of our parenting techniques. The other day I heard him scolding the doll for crying and telling her that he was going to have to put his legs on her if she didn't stop crying. That's his version of what happens when he won't put on his pajamas and we have to pin him down to do it.

He has now come out of his room nine times. His tea is yucky. And he can't feed his baby sister because his bra is stuck.

Um, excuse me?