It was late. Way past bed time. Our daughter was already asleep. My husband decended the stairs after a long snuggle time with our son, believing he had succumed to sweet dreams, and themission had been accomplished -we should have known better.
After a moment of total silence, and the agreement that we were both ready for bed, we heard tiny feet on the hardwood floor. We laughed. Clearly, he was not sleeping. He walked over to the bronzed gate pressed in his door entry delicately saying, "Mom. Dad. Mom." We said nothing - maybe if he thought we were sleeping too, he would go back to bed. No. Of course not.
Looking at each other, we took a deep breath dropping our shoulders. Already after ten, I knew who would be going upstairs next. The house sat silent for a second and we continued to listen wondering what he might be doing, and then, he exploded,"Ma-oom! Da-aad! Up. Gate. Help. Please. Drink. Juice. Please. Dog. Ball. More." It was like every word he can say. We bit our lips and dropped our jaws laughing at what he could possibly be thinking, but it was simple; he was protesting going to bed.
He went through the list of words a few times and finally I said, "Good night, honey."
After screaming some more, we heard the feet again, and back into his carbed he climbed. A few minutes later, I walked upstairs to see him asleep. Bed time, it's sure not easy when they're little. Getting up in the morning, that's my favorite.