The bed time routine for us is sort of like and Olympic sport. With three kids of various ages, the bargaining and arguments start at night fall, which when you are living in Maine, means that your kids come off the bus in the winter already telling you that they aren't tired, and “can they read a little extra?”
The other night was no exception. We got everyone in their beds, and inevitably we heard the little pitter patter feet of Henry then the pitifully whined "mom" from the top of the stairs.
Now generally this will make me laugh because all three of my kids will be in their rooms for about 2 seconds, then come to the top of the stairs for something and start their Oscar performance "tired voice." Usually followed by the statement "while I was sleeping..."
While they were sleeping? Really? I have barely gotten down the stairs! There are many things that kids can do in a matter of 60 seconds...Pick a nose, destroy a room, even drive their parents to the brink of insanity, but sleep? I am not that Naive.
So being the understanding mother that I am, I didn’t even let the last m get out of his mouth before I told him to go back to bed. Did he go back to bed? Nope, he told on me. He went into his sisters room told her that I was being mean and that he didn’t feel good.
Pitter patter, pitter patter, stomp, stomp, stomp (this would be Henry and Caroline coming to the top of the stairs)
“Mom, Henry says that you won’t listen to him and he doesn't feel good” ***
My very mature response: “Mom is off duty right now, but if you would like to leave a message you can do so after the beep”
(It has never ceased to amaze me that the kids will actually wait for the beep and… leave a message)
“Um, moooooom, I don’t feel good, that is me Henry”
I really should have listened to my answering machine.
About 10 minutes later I hear a strange noise…kind of a splat. (I told you not for the faint of heart here) I came around the corner to what could only be described as a Hollywood war scene.
The boy had lost his stomach…down the stairwell…in what I can only decide was a vengeance Exorcist move, he apparently spun around in a 360 to achieve maximum coverage in the hall way, and down the stairs, on the walls, picture frames, all the way down…to yes…the FRONT DOOR.
I have decided that the Answering Machine will only be put on in matters that I am certain will not end in gagging and Lysol coverage… and I have to say the nightly Pitter patter pitter patter is now making me twitch with Post Traumatic Stress.
Spring is coming right? Because I am pretty sure I need to open my windows because there is something very unholy in my house.
*** before you judge me, he NEVER feels well at Bed time, and the "I don't feel well" excuse is used on average 400 times a week...so don't judge me!