September 18, 2007
That's right, move over Britney Spears, because I'm about to put your performance to shame! No, not your recent performance at the VMAs--anyone can top that. Seriously, I was peeking in on the
I believe I've trumped you in what might be your biggest strength these days--crappy-ass parenting. I know, I know...hard to believe. But really honey, you've met your match.
James usually takes a nap around noon, but yesterday, since his friend Trevor (pronounced by James as "Treasure") was over, I let him stay up until 1:30. He took a quick nap, and by the time 7:30 rolled around, he was exhausted. We're talkin' D-U-N done.
Buuuut, instead of putting James into his bed, we decided to put James in the stroller and go for a little family walk. We got home around 8:30--he usually goes to bed at 8.
By this point, James had moved beyond 'overtired' and entered the realm of 'hyper like a tricked-out zoo animal.' He was running all over the apartment, as fast as he possibly could, picking up any item in his path and throwing it over his shoulder. Fire trucks were flying, tupperware was being tossed, and the tampons from my purse were haphazardly flung all over the kitchen.
Instead of addressing the issue and putting the crazy little primate in his
James ran into the kitchen, picked up one of Jared's dress shoes, and stopped on a dime just as he was about to launch it over his shoulder.
"Moyee" he said, "Dabes wan some esheem too." (translation: Mommy, James wants some ice cream, too)
The proper parental response would have been: No, it's past your bedtime. Up the stairs right now, young man!
My response was: One scoop or two?!
By now it was 9 o'clock and my 2 year old was sitting in his high chair, happily indulging in a hefty serving of Oreo laced ice cream. I'm a genius. He went to bed around 9:15, and proceeded to break his personal jumping record, do a dead-on monkey impersonation, and compose an original song all about me.
Jared and I headed upstairs around ten, and opened his door like we usually do, fully expecting him to asleep, just like he usually is. But instead, he sprung up, shoved his pacifier under the pillow, plopped his blanket on top and proclaimed, "Moyee, esch go! Esch pyay!" (translation: Mommy, let's go! Let's play!)
That's his morning routine. Fantastic.
He settled down a few minutes later and slept until 2am, when I woke up to hear him calling my name. I walked into his room and he did it again--he stuffed his binky under the pillow and let me know it was time to play.
"No" I said, "It's sleeping time, not playing time."
This conversation eventually moved to our bed, where James twisted my hair with one fat little finger and poked Jared's right eye with another. "Esch go! Esch go!" This lasted until roughly 3:45am when James shook us both awake to relay the following message:
"Moyee. Daddy. Dabes es so much fun. I a gud time."
Jared repeated back, "James is so much fun?! Did you just call yourself a good time?"
"Yeah" he replied, and immediately fell into a deep, knocked-out kind of sleep.
Moral of the story? NEVER give your child ANYTHING containing Oreos. Well, not unless you're totally ready for a really good time!
Got that Brit?