Gold stars

Julie's off at some work function tonight, so she was unavailable to swoop in should the bedtime routine turn ugly. As it turns out, it was the smoothest bedtime in history.

All credit goes to the barricaded big-girl door.


"Uh oh, Dada."

"It seems to be locked."

She examined the gate and deemed it impenetrable.

"We can open it once we do teeth, diaper, and pajamas."

"Yeah."

She ran to the bathroom for teeth, to the changing table for diaper, and then suddenly became a pajama enthusiast instead of a conscientious objector.


Five books later, she went to bed without a fuss.

To be fair, she's still not technically sleeping. I'm listening her talk to herself and occasionally whine that she wants her mama. We'll see if things escalate.

Okay, things escalated. In the space between the previous paragraph and this one, I brought up a sippy cup of water and watched her sip-chug it. Then I surreptitiously dimmed her light further.

"Light on!"

"It is on, sweetie. Read your Elmo book and then put your head down. No more crying, please."

"Yeah."

Now she's quiet, and it's 7:16. Not bad.

Almost forgot: perhaps due in part to the 20 or 30 mini-pep-talks Julie and I gave Lyla this morning about the importance of daycare obedience, Lyla's teacher wrote that she was much better today. Gold stars all around.