I am working on an advanced degree in bedtime delayal. (I'm aware that delayal is not a word, but whatever, I'm not even five yet, you know what I mean, so go with it, will ya?)
To date, my techniques include, but are by no means limited to:
- profess an inability to select the books which shall be read
- brush teeth one at a time
- agonize over pajama choice
- discover that legs are too tired to ascend stairs
- realize that starvation is imminent
- want water, but also want not to get out of bed to get it
- belatedly discover that yes, I do need to use the bathroom again
- spook myself by staring deeply into the well-known shadows of my room
If, in the course of this little dance, I seem particularly tenacious, inventive, and fractious, if in fact I seem very close to completely melting down into a sobbing heap of pure misery, might it not occur to you that there is something special going on?
You blew it last night. I was totally freaked out about the possibility that there would be no one I knew at camp today, and you missed all the signs. Instead you just got frustrated and angry and downright mean.
But, lucky for you, I'm a forgiving kind of guy. Tonight was much better. Let's hold a good thought for Tuesday, shall we?
(Okay, Mommy, you can have your blog back now.)