Swiper, no swiping!

Some days, I think back wistfully to the time when J and I stayed out until the wee hours of the morning, and were able to sleep in until noon the next morning.  Once we had kids, I’ve found that those days are like a mirage in the desert of my memory.

Bobo has always been one of those kids that needed a lot of sleep.  We were lucky in the sleep department with this one; by four months of age, she was sleeping about 12 hours straight through the night.  Even better, she went down for the night around six o’clock, which meant the hubby and I often got some dedicated mom-and-dad-time in the evenings.  The flip side of the coin is that an early bedtime also meant we were often awakened at the crack of dawn.

This trend has continued into her preschool years.  Most mornings, Bobo will wake up around 6 am, and come into our bed to snuggle and watch cartoons.  J is usually up and in the shower by that time, and I’m usually awake, and semi-coherent.

This morning, however, Bobo comes bounding into our room at the ungodly hour of 5 am, ready to rumble.  J sends her back into bed, but 15 minutes later, she’s back in our room, saying she can’t sleep.  Begrudgingly, I move over and make space in between mom and dad for one more.  I flip on the TV and attempt to doze back to sleep.

I’ve just fallen back asleep when a little voice chirps loudly in my ear, “Swiper, no swiping!”  Oops, I forgot that Dora the Explorer is one of those shows.  Seriously, I think there should be a law prohibiting shows that encourage preschool interaction from broadcasting prior to 7 am.  Either that, or I need to take Dora’s lead and start making interactive maps for Bobo… something like “Door…Hallway…Bobo’s Bed!”

Well, yes, wedgies do suck. Now get back in bed.

Bobo has been resisting bedtime the past few weeks.  Her usual excuses range from getting a drink, having to go potty (even though we went just before bedtime), we forgot to give her a hug AND a kiss, yadda yadda yadda.

My favorite is when she’ll bound of out bed five minutes after we put her down, saying she had a nightmare.  I don’t even think she knows what a nightmare is, but she heard us using the word a few weeks ago, and she’s latched onto that as an excuse to get out of bed.

I actually just put Bobo back into her bed for the 3rd time tonight.  Her first two attempts at stalling were pretty lame, but her final excuse was a goody.  This last time, she came running out of her room screaming “My undies are going into my crack! I can’t sleep, my undies hurt!!”

Really, how can you argue with that?  I’ve been there myself… wedgies are no fun.  I put on my best stern face, helped dislodge the offending panties, and send her back to bed, where she stays put this time (as do, coincidentally, the undies). 

Sometimes, it’s pretty hard being a disciplinarian when you are laughing so hard.

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