Lose an hour, lose your mind

Last night the kids went to sleep surprisingly well, despite the fact that someone, somewhere, a long time ago decided that it would be a good idea to putz around with time, just, you know, for funzies. (I am postulating here—there is probably some valid reason for the time change. Slash THERE BETTER BE.) Bedtime has indeed gotten better than it used to be, a fact that I probably didn’t have to spell out for you, because you yourself can see that I am still 1. sane and 2. functioning during daylight hours. At least most of the time.

Of course, Rosie is two, so nothing is ever set in stone—good behavior, bad behavior, ability to use a fork, anything. Two is like the ultimate fun house: will this room (day) be scary? Funny? Filled with sticky things and uneven floors? Who knows? I mean, just look at these two pictures, taken literally 10 seconds apart:

There’s no predicting Two, people. Just stop trying! That’s my motto.

But, I digress. The kids had been in bed for about 20 minutes last night, and I had only been called in by Rosie twice, around two and five minutes after saying goodnight, with a drawn out “Cuhhhhhhverrrrs! Mah cuhhhhhvers!” Oh, excuse me your majesty! Let me draw those back up for you, post haste! And shall I also fan your hair upon your pillow and place your hands like so? I shall stay in your chambers until sleep draws you asunder, and then an hour more, just to ensure no dust particles deign to enter thy royal nose!

I covered her back up, both times, of course. And gave her another hug. And kiss. And another kiss. Sternly.

So when I heard another mah cuhhhhverrs! from their room after 15 or so minutes of silence, I felt irritated that she was not asleep, and clomped back in to throw her blanket back up over her shoulders (and kiss and hug her, ok, fine, but this time I was not going to kiss a second time! I am cold and hard like that!). But I quickly realized when I approached the bed that she had cried out in her sleep, and had I not run in all clompy, she would probably have just fallen right back into her mumbly slumber. So I hastily covered her up, trying to act very this-is-all-a-dream-shhh-go-back-to-sleep-like, and in the process, knocked her sippy cup full of water onto the floor with a CAH-LUNK. Her little bedraggled head popped up, and her face had a look on it like WHAT THE HELL, MOM and she said “Who did dat?” Continuing with my shushy-mellow-vibe, I said, “It’s ok, Mama knocked over your water, it’s ok, go to sleep, etc.” But she looked behind me, defiant, and said, “No. Mama. WHO HIT DAT DRUM?” And then lay her head back down without waiting to hear an answer and was asleep in seconds.

Sometimes I think about what must be going on up there in her little Rosie two year old mind, and even though I really have no idea—man, would it be great to get a hit of that.

1 comment

1 ginnymom { 03.14.11 at 8:53 pm }

I like how she carries her beads on her trike. Might need to dress up that swim suit.

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