Goldilocks & the Three Bedtimes

I write a lot about the conversations we have at bedtime in the bottom bunk.  In part because I know we’ll look back fondly on this time and wish we hadn’t spent so much time trying to extricate ourselves from the master of slumber deferment to get back to our laptops and episodes of The Americans (but oh, how I miss them).

The king of shuteye subterfuge has developed a litany of tactics including one more trip to the bathroom, more agua, warming up his bean bag (my old microwaveable neck cushion), finding some stuffed animal (rarely the same one twice), laying with him “for two minutes”, and the mother of all stall strategem: telling him a “story with my mouth.”

He literally is trying to talk to me from his room as I write this… “Mama, you forgot to check on me.”

This whole process began years ago when we realized that Jacob takes an eternity to wind down.  His brain turns off over the course of two hours and turns on like a switch, usually in the six o’clock hour (a hard-won parenting accomplishment).  Early on we realized that if we didn’t limit our bedtime reading to two books, we’d be held captive until our own bedtime.

I’m very strategic about the books I read.  One book of substance and one “chick lit,” if you will.  I also now give specific “guest” reading instructions after he almost coerced Miss Dulce into reading him the entire Wizard of Oz… A serious tome that I’m sure is about a three hour task when read aloud.

We used to read two books and then “talk yes-er-day.”  That meant talking about what actually happened yesterday, or more generally, something of interest in the past (as in three years or three hours ago).  We then graduated to telling a “story with my mouth” which means I need to make up a story and do not have the luxury of mindlessly reading illustrated words on a page.

I started with stories of Super Jake.  Then it evolved into stories about The Three Little Pigs or Golidlocks and the Three Bears.  In my pig story I like to name them Flopsy, Mopsy, and Curlytail.  I always make the hard-working and strategic brick house building pig a girl.  She never tries to cut corners.

Then I received requests to tell stories about The Three Little Pigs but with the Big-Bad-Wolf-Nonna or the Big-Bad-Wolf-Papa.  Don’t be alarmed.  I was told this made the story way better, they aren’t actually bad, and no wolves were ever harmed in the telling of these stories.  In most instances, once the wolf gets to the roof of the brick house, Super Jake or Santa Claus comes flying in to swoop them up by the armpits and drop them in a nearby lake.

One time I told a riveting version of the Three Pigs but with ants named Antsy, Pantsy, and Francey that quickly outsmarted the Big-Bad-Anteater that snorted and slurped and burped their house down.  Honestly, I wish I’d captured it on tape.

Ultimately my creativity waned after telling 3 pigs and 3 bears spin-offs for months… I then bought one of my newest favorite books, Goldilocks and the Three Dinosaurs by Mo Willems.  This is a must read.  Even the inside cover is a hoot.  Goldilocks and the Three Monster Trucks?  Nah.

So then we went through a phase of “listening to my beat” which involved listening to each other’s heartbeats and the sounds of my stomach digesting dinner.

Now we’re into a phase where I have to tell him stories about when I was little, specifically involving my pets.  Fortunately, I remember a time in second grade when I had 21 pets and we have not yet exhausted all my material.  And now when I’m done, he likes to tell me about his work which is actually a farm and all his animals and “the new wife” because “the old wife is in the heaven.”

And the material just keeps on coming…