Most nights she is allowed two books of her choosing. Jin and I dread it when she picks the 30 lb. Disney Princess Story Compilation, where each page contains half a page of text and takes at least 30 minutes to complete. Sometimes we deviate (ok, most of the time we deviate) from the real story and make up words to shorten the reading. After a long days work, the last thing I enjoy doing to reading a Disney dissertation. Besides, Bella would never know it and making up the story requires more imagination.
After story time, it’s a quick trip to the bathroom and then lights out with mommy or daddy in bed waiting for Bella to return. Once she settles into bed, we have “talk time,” where Bella and I talk about stories from mommy and daddy’s past childhood. Her favorite stories include the time Daddy got in trouble for being naughty; Grandma made Daddy and Uncle Sun stand outside in the Michigan winter with no shirts on as punishment. Her favorite story of all time is the story of me dropping my pumpkin mug when a frog jumped in my path and scared me. To this day, I fear frogs for this very reason.
After “talk time,” we settle into the blankets and sleep next to her for ‘five more minutes’ (yes, you must verbally acknowledge that you’ll sleep with her for “five more minutes”). Of course, she doesn’t really have a concept of five minutes, but saying ‘five more minutes’ allows her to prepare for what comes next: bedtime; alone in the darkness; sleep.
As I prepare to get up after five minutes, Bella then begins her good-bye routine. It used to start as multiple successions of hug, then kiss, hug, then kiss, hug, then kiss (for at least 15 rounds). But as the routine wore on, her hugs and kisses melted together and blended into a slobbery mixture of wet kisses that dragged back and forth across my cheek.
After counting at least 15 repetitions, she then asks a series of questions, which require a series of exact answers from me:
“When it’s daytime I can come to mommy and daddy’s room?”
“Yes, when it’s daytime you can come to mommy and daddy’s room.” I’d reply.
“Will you keep the door open?”
“Yes, I’ll keep the door open.”
“Have a good day.”
“Have a good day.”
“Have a good night.”
“Have a good night.”
“Sweet dreams.”
“Sweet dreams.”
“I love you.”
“I love you, too.”
I finally make my exit from the room with the false notion that I’ve clocked out from mommy-duty for the night.
Invariably, within five minutes, Bella will roam out of her bedroom and announce that she needs to go to the bathroom again. We’ve tried arguing with her to return to bed, pointing out that she just used the bathroom 10 minutes earlier. But it’s no use. No matter what we say or do, the second bathroom trip is part of her routine and there’s no changing it.
Sometimes I’ll catch her refilling her water cup in the sink, meticulously washing her hands, or playing with the bathroom scale. Other times she stalls by waiting for me to turn off my bedroom lights, “Mommy, don’t forget to turn off your lights and go to bed now or else you’ll get a time-out.”
Eventually, she returns to her bedroom and crawls into bed.
Finally, it’s mommy-time. But bedtime routine is still the best.
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