Life With a Narc

I find myself getting in trouble a lot these days, and the worst part is that it’s for stuff that I’ve told SB (small boy) NOT to do.  Some of my infractions during the past few weeks have included:

 Walking with a toothbrush in my mouth

Saying “stupid” (a big no-no when you’re in Pre-K)

Not turning off the bathroom light

Recycling improperly (I love that they’re learning this, but really?)

Crossing the driveway without looking both ways (I got in big, big trouble for this one)

 

To make it even more annoying, SB stands with his hand on his hip when he’s informing me of my misdeeds.  Then, of course, I realize that’s exactly what I do when he’s in trouble.

 

It’s no big secret that living with a little kid is like living with a parrot – he repeats EVERYTHING I say, but not only that, he reminds me when I forget something. 

That’s especially endearing after a long day.  “Mama, you said today that I could have jelly beans if I put my shoes on by myself AND YOU FORGOT!!!”  Naturally I’m reminded of this during our nightly bedtime battle.  Because everyone knows that the best way to get your kids to go to bed is to load them up with little bombs of sugar first.

And sometimes he catches me doing something naughty, like sneaking chocolate covered raisins after he’s gone to bed and I’ve finally collapsed on the couch.  Then the little Narc says something like, “if you give me a few I’ll go back to my bed and stay there ALL NIGHT”.  Isn’t that considered extortion? 

So now I lie.  Boldly and flagrantly, I flat out lie to him.  If he asks me what I’m snacking on I say, “oh, broccoli and eggs”.  Since really, there’s nothing more relaxing than laying on the couch, turning on the TV and eating broccoli.  Who needs wine?  Besides, he’d probably use it against me someday.  

Bedtime – Screwed Again

BB (Big Boy)’s putting SB to bed upstairs and I’m screwed again.  The only way to get past his room undetected is to either burrow under the carpet like a gopher and try to sneak by, or to crawl on my belly, Navy Seal-like, past his door and hope he doesn’t see me.  If I am spotted, it adds at least 15 minutes to the bedtime extravaganza.  Pray for me.  I’m going in.

Bedtime is Hell

Was it General Patton who said war is hell?  Clearly he didn’t have a small boy (SB) because then he’d have known what hell is REALLY like.
Here’s what our eleven step nighttime routine looks like these days.  I actually lied to SB’s doctor when he asked how bedtime was going.  Pathetic.
Step One:  Bath time.  Lots of happy splashing and playing with boats.  So far so good unless it’s a dreaded hair washing night, then there’s lots of yelling and angry splashing (by SB, not us). 
Step Two:  Get into pajamas – Sharks? Dinosaurs? Skeletons? A five-minute debate ensues over bedtime fashion.  Of course during the day he doesn’t care what he looks like, but at night our house turns into Project Runway. 
Step Three:  Milk and a TV show in our room. Easy.
Step Four:  Book time.  Fairly easy.
Step Five:  Lights out.  Now the fun really begins.
*Note – this is the part where our pediatrician says we should be done.  And he says it with a straight face.
Step Six:  Cram myself into SB’s toddler bed and fight for pillow space with 300 stuffed animals.
Step Seven:  The command is given for me to SING.  Do you remember those movies where the king would order the jester to sing or he’d be killed?  That’s how it is around here.  Apparently my horrifically off-key version of Thunder Road is crucial for the King to fall asleep.  God knows why.  
Step Eight:  SING MORE! (by this time my back has cramped up and I’ve lost the will to live…)
Step Nine:  Excuse time.  Some of my favorites:  SB needs to kiss the dog.  The bed is hurting him.  He pooped (liar!) 
Step Ten:  The Jester (me) must sing one more “little song”.
Step Eleven:  Try to sneak out and get caught by his highness.
Repeat steps 6 – 11 until the King falls asleep.
Well played, King Small Boy.  I bow to you.  As a good Jester should.