Bedtime

We are in the dip of the curvy road of what is Bubba. While last week was resistance, this week is explosion. Last week was sensible schedules, somewhat completed homework, homemade cookies, and sleepy bathed children snuggled in bed by 9PM. This week is schedules that aren't clicking (implementation hasn't changed, just the reception!), ripped homework, a dirty kitchen, and stinky overstimulated children with scuzzy teeth who are wide awake at 10:30PM.

I don't know what started it all, but the downward slide has begun and I imagine we won't be back on track until the weekend (once the boys have sometime to catch up on sleep).

Last night, Bubba was apparently inventing ways to stay out of bed. This wasn't clear to me until he said, "How about I can't sleep because my toe hurts?" (He cut it the other day.) "Yeah, that sounds like a good one." His voice sounded quite pleased.

Moosie on the other hand, was not pleased when Bubba was finally asleep. We were keeping him out of the room to let Bubba settle down. Moosie kept exclaiming, "Macaroni! Macaroni!"

This would be difficult to understand for the untrained listener, but I--being the manipulating mommy that I am--knew Moosie was saying "Ack lonely!" [Ack is how Moosie says his brother's name.] You see, when Moosie wants to sleep with us, all I have to say is that his brother will be lonely, and the dear little boy toddles into their bedroom to hold a vigil for his big bro until both of them are sound asleep.

And as always, these things tend to backfire.

The good and bad of visual timers

Bubba and Moose were going to play at the neighbors' house while I went to a meeting. I tried to time it right so that Bubba had the motivation to do his homework, enough time for any possible meltdowns, but not too much time so that we had hours of "Is it time yet?" or random bolting out of the door.

Once the homework was completed, it was clear by several attempts to flee the house, that me saying "We will go at 6:15, when the big hand is on the 3" was not working.

So I set the visual timer.

Waiting...after trying to move the time forward and me failing at my attempt to again explain the abstract concept of time.



Still waiting...at one point turning it upside down and tapping it.



Still waiting, but finally distracted by the Charlie Brown Christmas special...



And you better believe when the red disappeared from the visual timer, he was out the door before I could blink.... without saying a word, without a coat, and with his brother running behind him screaming "Wait! Wait!"

The funny thing about noses

Right when Bubba leaped off the bus: "Mom, is there something wrong with my nose?"

Me, quickly contemplating what I should say, or more specifically what I should not say: "Is your nose bothering you?"

Bubba, pleasantly: "No..."

Me, analyzing his nose for redness, scratches, foreign objects: "It looks OK."

Bubba, not convinced, pace quickening: "Maybe I should look in the mirror."

Me, jumping to conclusions: "Did someone say something about your nose?"

Bubba, as he analyzes his nose in the mirror with utmost intensity: "No..."

Me, trying to figure out what he's trying to figure out: "Does it hurt?"

Bubba, unsuccessfully trying to peer up his nose in the mirror: "Sometimes."

Me: When?

Bubba, matter of factly: When I put my finger in there.

So long story short, we discussed not putting fingers in our noses because that would in fact make our noses hurt. And then everyone was happy.