we should…

Last night, sleep was a bit of a struggle. Because he seemed tired at 6 but by the end of bedtime routine he clearly wasn’t tired. At all.

We need a plan, I said to Scott.

To Jonah, I said, Mommy and Daddy will be right back.

We retired to the bedroom to regroup, and Jonah didn’t freak out. In fact we enjoyed a brief period where he simply talked to himself and we huddled quietly on the bed, waiting for inspiration to strike, until the sound of the dryer flipping clothing about began causing the boy distress.

I-heeear Mom-my In-The Kit-chen.

What did we do? We took him out of the crib, let him play some more. Did more books and songs. Then Scott witnessed a yawn and put him in the crib, and I closed it down with half-an-hour of focused ohm-ing, shushing, and back rubbing. He was down by 8:30.

Tonight there was some chaos with a pre-bedtime trip to the grocery store (we actually thought the ride might help lull him to sleep). He didn’t fall asleep in the car, but the boy was clearly tired and upon returning home we managed to get him directly to pajamas and books and songs. It seemed like Scott had him this time. At 7:30 I fully expected Scott’s exit from the nursery to indicate success. But, no.

I went in just as the boy was beginning to cry. He stopped, stood up.

Pee pee.

Are you sure pee pee? I asked, lifting him up out of the crib. Howabout snuggles? Which do you want? Pee pee or snuggles?

Pee pee!

Okay.

We go into the bathroom, he sits on the potty, and the games begin.

We Should Read Snoopy (sounds like: weshouuuuuld Reeeead SNOOPee).

No.

We Should Read ABC Book.

No.

Elevator? (A new game, involving all of his finger puppets piled into an old cat bowl and the bowl being lifted up and down with the push of an imaginary button — Jonah’s new favorite thing is elevators.)

No.

I tell him: Jonah, in 30 seconds potty time is over.

I proceed to count to 30 verrrrrry slowly.

Nada.

Jonah says, very serious, We Should Play Peekaboo.

No, Jonah.

His eyes get wide. He’s really thinking here.

We Should Do Ba Ba Boots. (This is a game his nanny invented in which the adult says ba ba ba and inclines head towards his and he meets you forehead to forehead just as you say Boots!)

Okay.

Ba ba ba boots.

He laughs.

We do it again.

Et voila, pee pee.

As we’re heading back to the nursery, he’s bargaining again.

Chair?

Yes, I say, five minutes in the chair.

We sit in the glider. He settles down on my lap immediately. I wrap him up in my arms and sing our bedtime songs, rocking. He shifts, settles, shifts again. He sits up for a minute, looks at me, sleepy-eyed with a slow smile, flops down against my chest.

In maybe a few more than five minutes, I sing him to sleep. It’s delicious.

* * *

My mom tells me she sat next to a child development specialist at a dinner party recently. She turned to the woman and said, “One word, Sleep?” and the woman said, oh yes, that is a big problem these days blah blah blah and then my mom asked, “solution?” and the woman said, letting them cry, “They’re just angry.”

Interestingly, my mom also asked her for a book recommendation and the woman gave the name of a fancy sleep-consultant-to-the-celebrities who — from her website — seemingly doesn’t believe in letting kids cry.

Which just illustrates in some small way the confusion that this whole issue involves.