We are fighting a losing war with Jackson lately with regards to going to bed. He doth protest.
Every night Shawn and I put on our game faces. It's bedtime. There's no argument. Period. Bed. Now. Now! NOW! Then the yelling begins. Jackson screams and yells and throws a typical tantrum (at least I hope it's typical)refusing to clean up his toys, brush his teeth, put on his jammies, go into his room quietly, read a book, you get my drift. It's a war! And Shawn and I are so worried that if we give an inch - say, maybe not make him pick up his toys for one night -- he'll take a mile. We're convinced that if we don't stick to the routine, he'll end up as the class-punk whom all the teachers dread having in their classroom each year. We are convinced he'll be kicked out of preschool before he even starts. He's a strong willed child, to say the least.
Bedtime usually takes a good 30 minutes, when it should take 10-15. He's an expert staller. He wants water. His blankies. His red car. One more story. Mommy or Daddy, whoever is not in the room at the time. You name it, he'll ask for it. He will be an excellent debater when the time comes.
Then, when we do leave the room -- at last -- his pleas for us to return bearing gifts of milk, songs or snuggles does not end. It's a nightmare before sleep even comes. Then, eventually, the quiet comes and he sleeps. And he is peaceful and calm. I slip into his room and the face that was scowling at me in anger and frustration is soft and dewy. He's sweet and gentle and almost makes me want to weep with how innocent he is. And I fall madly in love with him all over again. And we wonder what the fuss was all about...until the next night when it starts all over again!