bedtime battles

Tonight, after I got Number Four's diaper changed and jammies on, he looked up at me and said, "My bed time!"

I just about danced a jig, or would have, had I known how. Getting him to recognize bedtime is certainly a good step. He has been our most impossible going-to-bed, staying-in-bed, not-turning-lights-on child. It doesn't help that he figured out how to climb out of his crib at 18 months, or that Dad decided to do away with the crib to make a pint-sized bunk bed for him and his next-oldest brother.

Now, he can simply slip right off his mattress, where before he at least had to climb up a rail and slide down the other side to escape. It probably doesn't help that we have four boys in one bedroom either. Number two and three are usually tired enough that they would fall asleep quickly if baby brother would turn the lights on, dig through Legos and move the kid-sized chairs around. By the time oldest brother's bedtime approaches at 9 p.m., all three are still awake, giggling or yelling at the baby (sometimes both simultaneously).

So much for 8 o'clock bedtime being enforced. I've been so tired lately from painting that I don't have energy to remedy the situation. I can barely suck in enough air to yell "GET TO BED!" There's a mad scramble, jumping into beds and then six minutes later I hear feet moving, toys being chucked around and more giggling.

Apparently it does not matter that the baby recognizes that it's his bedtime. That only means more time to play and dig in his brother's things.

Maybe tomorrow night I'll actually get up from the TV to do something about it. Will keep you posted.