Is it just me, or does a child’s reasoning for calling you back into his bedroom at night get shiftier and shiftier with each “Mooooomyyyyy!!”?
First visit tonight: “Mommy, Evan’s crying.” Totally reasonable.
Second visit, five minutes after the first visit: “Mommy, I’m trying and I’m trying and I’m just not having any sleep.” A little lame but high on the cuteness scale, so he got another kiss and a sweet talk about what he should dream about tonight.
Third visit: “Mommy, I need my blanket.” Puh-leaze. It was covering him up to his stomach. Begrudgingly I yanked it up to his chin and left the room again, swearing to him, myself and God above that “I am not coming back in here tonight!”
(Incidentally, all three of us knew there’d be a fourth visit as soon as I said there wouldn’t be.)
Fourth visit: “Mommy, I’m just trying to scratch my finger. Can you scratch it?” OK this was clearly a test, but after four flights of stairs and four interruptions to the assignment I was working on, I was worn down. Feeling like a trained seal, I actually scratched his finger, people. I am not proud of this. (It was either that or repeatedly bang my head into the wall, which I sort of felt like I was already doing.) He smiled, said “Thanks. Good night!” turned over and fell asleep.
I’m not sure about the final score in this scenario, but I do know the kid’s well tucked, sufficiently scratched and, finally, down for the count.
(Aaaaand, now that I’ve typed that, there will be a middle-of-the-night visit. Guaranteed.)