bedtime (un)routine, with zoo animals

The bedtime routine continues to take on complex variations, additions, flourishes.

Tonight the boy required that he be covered in two pillows, one on each side of him, nearly on top of him, while he lay on top of me, us both reclining in the glider, while books were read. And then he asked that the pillows go into the crib with him. “Lay down! Pillows.”

No songs in the chair tonight though on some nights he quite specifically wants to hear the songs in the chair. “Chair,” he directs, in a tone that does not invite argument.

Upon entering the crib, he made clear that he did not want the two giant dog stuffies in the bed where they were currently sitting and had to be removed to a different location, but his regular dog loveys (2) were fine.

He wanted the white noise machine off. Then on. Then off.

He requested two blankets. Adjusted several times to specifications unclear but I kept rearranging and hoping for the best.

The last two nights, he has required “Hand.” This means one adult hand, placed firmly on his cheek, jaw, and wrapping slightly around the back of his neck. Last night he readjusted the Hand frequently, during songs (mostly “Fence” — as in Don’t Fence Me in), and then insisted on retaining the Hand, with FIRM pressure (he’s been teething something awful) until he fell asleep. 20 minutes of me, leaning over with the crib rail supporting my upper body so that I could keep the Hand in place.

Tonight he asked for “Hand, Both.” This was nearly physically impossible to achieve since he’d already directed me to put the crib rail up. “Close it!” I explained to him that we needed it Open, and then pulled over the glider ottoman so I could sit and minister.

Eventually he allowed me to switch to just one Hand. In between fulfilling his additional requests for Zebra AND Giraffe (new stuffies gifted from Aunt Michelle on our zoo trip in L.A. last week).

So, at this point, he has a pillow behind his head, one on his left side, two doggie loveys on his right side, one zoo animal stuffie under each arm, my hand on his face, two blankets over him, and an un-attended-to stuffie moose in the upper corner of the crib, just above his pillow.

“Pee pee,” he says.

“Really?” I ask.

“Again,” he says, firmly.

I take him to the bathroom. During the trip over, he wavers. “All done… No… Pee pee.”

I sit him down on the toilet. “Hipp-o-pau-muss,” he says, pointing to the counter where it sits. “Gay-durrrr.” I pass him the requested rubber bath toys. One in each hand, he balances on his potty seat.

“Book!”

I begin reading to him a selection from the stack we keep on the windowsill for such occasions.

He does his business. I finish the book.

We say goodnight to the bath toys, goodnight to the bathroom. Return him to his nest of stuffies, loveys, pillows, and blankets in the crib. Return my hand to his face.

He runs down a list of people and animals he’s thinking about. I say good night to each one as he mentions them: “Laszlo, Shayna, Dylan. Giraffe. Ducks. El-ent!” (the latter being his latest pronunciation of Elephant).

“Good night, Elephant,” I say.

“Hold it!” he says.

“But we don’t have any elephants,” I tell him. (Not yet, anyway.) “Good night, Elephant,” I say again.

“Fence,” he says. I sing the song again, prefacing that this is the last time, and then he’s going to sleep.

I say good night, remove my hand.

“Mommy?” he says as I’m walking away from the crib.

“Bedtime, Jonah. Good night.”

I close the door.

It’s quiet.

I go into the kitchen and begin cooking dinner.