2 and a half

Sleeping on the stairs

I'm pretty sure this is the most uncomfortable place in our house to sleep. Unless you're a Barbie doll or a baby duckie and Grace put you there, in which case it has been well thought out and thoroughly discussed and is perfect.

How to fry your microwave, part II

Yes, I like writing sequels. First you had to endure Black Widow, part II, and now this.

It'll be short.

I just want to state, plainly and on the Internet for all to read, that Panasonic makes crappy microwaves. Less than a month after I wrote about our plight with those convenient little rectangular boxes that so nicely warm your food, the Panasonic we replaced ours with just stopped. As in, one moment it was working and the next it was not. 

And it's not just the microwave that doesn't work. The whole display doesn't work. No clock, no timer, nothing. You couldn't use this thing as a dim flashlight if you wanted. It's completely dead. 

So now we're tasked with how do deal with a dead microwave that Panasonic ought to replace for free but for which we threw out the box and the receipt. And we're burdened with warming up milk for the girls at bed time on the stove again instead of in the microwave, which is exactly as hard as you'd think it would be. Ever tried it? There's no easy way to gauge the heat level or the time, so you either end up with milk that's too cold or milk that's boiling hot. And if it's the latter you've just scalded your finger after testing it.

So it turns out, you can just fry your microwave by buying a Panasonic. They've done the hard work for you - all you have to do is buy it, use it, and wait.

What kind of microwave to get now?

 

Audrey without a pacie?

Uttering those words once makes me want to utter them again, because I'm incredulous. Could it be true? Audrey has given up her pacie?

Repeating the phrase reminds me of the scene from 1984's Muppets Take Manhattan when Kermit and Miss Piggy are to be wed:

Bear 1: "Sombody's getting married?"

Bear 2: "Somebody's getting married? HEY, somebody's getting married!"

Bear 3: "Whoa, somebody's getting married!"

Pops: "Somebody's getting married??"

Lew Zealand: "Somebody's getting marrrieeeed!"

Group: "Somebody's getting married!" And so on. Until the entirely of the muppet world is chiming in.

I can hear it now:

Dad: "Audrey without a pacie?"

Mom: "Audrey without a pacie!"

Grace: "Audrey without a pacie??? HEY, don't take away MY pacie!"

Extended family: "Audrey without a paaaacieeee!!!"

Yes, the inveterate search for pacies in the middle of the night in our house may be at its end. The subtle but constant sucking noise may abate, and perhaps entirely if we can wean Grace off too. 

Advice to parents: Don't start your child on a pacie after age 2, which is what we permitted Audrey to do. And if your baby uses one, stop before age 2. It becomes more of an addiction versus a pacifier seemingly akin to (dare I say it?) a smoking habit. I don't think Audrey has an addictive personality, mind you - just a strong one.

How did this come about?

Yesterday Audrey announced unequivocally that she was giving up her pacie. Cold turkey, clean break, no detox required. I was taken back by her declaration since this was not to have occurred until her 4th birthday but she clearly wants to take the bull by the horns. I gave her a high-five and a hug and told her I was proud.

At bedtime,though, her resolve began to show some cracks. A great many of them, in fact. And no matter what we said to her, she cried.

"Do you want to read a book Audrey?" I asked. "A book?? Oh noooo, not a book... NO! I don't want to read a book," was her tearful reply. No distraction was good enough.

To her credit, she had overheard mommy saying that the pet dog belonging to her cousins needs to be euthanized due to illness - she picked up on that like a bloodhound and it considerably worsened her grief-stricken state.

But as time wore on she grew tired and fell asleep - without her pacie.

It may be the case that she hasn't done that in 2 years. Hard to say for sure, but I'd bet on it.

I'm proud of her. Tonight there will be tears again, but slightly less so. And tomorrow and the next day less again. Until her pacie is a distant memory.

Audrey without a pacie has a nice ring to it.

The Dream Catcher

Audrey announced to me yesterday morning that she continues to have bad dreams about the evil queens in Snow White and Sleeping Beauty (she calls them evil stepmothers but I think that's in Cinderella, right?) and doesn't understand why the Dream Catcher can't catch those darned dreams and do away with them.

Who is the Dream Catcher? I had to ask as well. Turns out I was the one who hung the Dream Catcher from the mobile above her bed - he's a small figurine. Duh, dad.

He's supposed to pull the bad dreams out of the ether and let the good dreams percolate about for re-use. Although that's not how Audrey put it. He has a diamond, apparently, which takes the bad dreams, and a circle, which permits the good dreams. And he just hangs out up there doing his thing while she sleeps.

Anyway, these dreams about evil queens and what not have caused her to want to sleep in our bed a bit more lately, so naturally I took advantage of the opportunity to say, "Audrey, if you're not in your own bed, how in dreamland is the Dream Catcher going to catch your bad dreams? Certainly he's not going to be able to do so if you're all the way down the hall in our room!"

She did think on that for a moment, but then slept in our bed again last night. Maybe it's time to stop watching Disney movies for awhile. And if Disney movies are causing this, what are other movies going to do? We might need more dream catchers.

A pot, a lid and a sippy cup of water

Audrey just got out of bed to come downstairs to get a pot and a lid and a sippy cup of water. She's worried she might get sick, and the whole idea originated, I think, from when my wife was sick with the flu this past winter. Audrey, of course, is not sick - she is imagining she might get sick. And even if she got sick, a pot with a lid on it isn't going to do her much good. But at least she has taste - she picked All-Clad. And at least she has her sippy cup - that means Daddy won't have to head downstairs in the middle of the night when she comes in to say she's thirsty.

I wish I may, I wish I might

Audrey is staying with Grammy tonight. We talked to her on the phone and she wanted to communicate this wish to Grace:

I wish I may

I wish I might

I wish I...[inaudible]

That Grace has sweet dreams tonight

Love, Audrey.

What a loving big sister. We'll miss her this evening.

Waking up with someone staring at you

Why the title? Because that's what Audrey was doing this morning at 4:41am. Somehow in my slumber I felt the sensation of someone staring at me and, upon opening my eyes, I see Audrey's face inches from my own. Perhaps I awoke because she was breathing on me, but whatever the case it scared the sh*t out of me and I practically jumped out of the bed. 

Our bed is tall so Audrey doesn't have to crouch much for her head to be parallel to my own while I'm lying down. She can just saunter in and stand there. She could do the same to my wife too but here's why I think she doesn't - I'm on the side near the door and I sleep on my stomach with my head turned to the side which means I'm an easy target. My face is right there. Plus, being the push-over that I am, when she wanders in and asks, "Can I sleep in your bed now?" she knows I'm likely to say, "Fine," and plop her down in the middle of the bed between me and my wife.

But this was kind of freaky. I mean, normally I hear the pitter-patter of her footsteps on the hardwood in the hall when she gets out of her bed and wanders around. I hear pretty much everything. But last night I didn't hear a thing. Has she figured out how to walk more quietly down the hall? And how long had she been standing there? And is this going to happen again tonight?

Here's the play-by-play:

8:30pm - Audrey goes to bed in her own bedroom. We make sure she brushes her teeth, read her books and she falls asleep like normal.

11:00pm - I go to bed, tired and probably having had more red wine than I should have had on a work night.

11:17pm - Grace, who has a bad cold right now, wakes up and starts crying. We hear her loud and clear on the baby monitor. Daddy, who was just falling asleep but is not one to let his girls cry for long, gets out of bed, walks down the hall, takes Grace out of her crib, carries her downstairs wrapped in her blankey, makes her a warm bottle, feeds it to her while changing her, rocks her for a bit and then puts her back to bed.

11:30pm - I'm back in bed.

4:41am - I wake up, face-to-face with Audrey. I nearly have a heart attack.

"Audrey, what are you doing?" I finally ask. She replies, "Daddy, can I sleep in your bed?" I don't even bother to ask what the problem is with her bed but say, "Audrey, you scared the sh*t out of me!" Okay - I didn't use a four-letter word but otherwise that's what I said. She thought nothing of it so instead of belaboring the issue I lift her up, pull the covers over her and then roll over, hoping to fall back asleep.

4:45am - "Daddy?" says Audrey. "I lost my pacifier." I mumble, "Are you sure you don't have it?" knowing full well that she didn't and that the pacifier was probably sitting right smack on top of her pillow in her bed.

4:46am - I go to Audrey's room to retrieve her pacifier, which was sitting right smack on top of her pillow in her bed. Lost it was not.

4:47am - After placing the pacifier back in her mouth I suggest she close her eyes and get some more sleep. And she does.

7:00am - Grace announces that she is awake on the baby monitor and our day begins.

So now I'm left wondering whether this staring face-to-face thing is going to happen again tonight. Expecting it could, I advised Audrey before heading to work this morning that she should just announce herself or tap me on the shoulder or something so that I know she's there. "Can I tap you on your eye?" she asked, smiling. "No, don't tap me in the face. That's not going to help our situation. Just nudge my arm or something." "Can I yell really loud?" she said. "No, Audrey... Are you listening to me?" She nodded. But we'll see.

The psyche of a 3-year-old

Sometimes it's just time for bed.

Like when it's 8:45pm and Audrey hasn't gone to bed yet. A good mood turns to bad and all hell breaks loose. Tonight she got it into her head that she wanted a jelly bean before bed. One jelly bean. 

My wife and I told her she couldn't have sugar before bed and her protest lasted nearly 30 minutes. It wasn't a normal crying episode - it was more of a strained, chain-saw like mix between crying and yelling and she carried on until she began coughing and became hoarse.

Finally I told her that if she kept it up she'd be asked a question tomorrow by someone and when she opened her mouth she wouldn't be able to speak. Her voice would be lost. She said, "Really?" and I replied, "Yes, it has happened to many children and many adults." She told me she didn't know anyone who that has happened to and I assured her that she'd be the first one if she kept it up.

She quieted down right away. It was interesting to me that this rationale worked, if only because my other attempts crashed and burned in miraculous fashion. But because of this, within minutes she was cuddled next to me as I read her The Day It Rained Hearts, her new favorite book. She had again become the sweet little girl I know.

I have yet to figure out the psyche of a 3-year-old.

Your kids will forgive you

As a dad one of the things I have the toughest time with is letting my girls cry while they're in bed. My reaction is to go pick them up and find out what is wrong and give them something to soothe them like a bottle or rocking them in a chair or walking them around in my arms. And it doesn't matter whether that's at bedtime or at 3am.

Call it the "cry it out" method or the "Ferber method" or whatever you want - I'm not so good at it. And a dad should be good at this, right? A mom is the one who's supposed be the bleeding heart. But that's a stereotype as far as I'm concerned - dads are stereotyped in so many ways. A post on that later, perhaps.

I hear the slightest cry or cough or coo in the middle of the night and wake up instantly, wondering if something's up. There's a practical side to it though - if Grace is crying I'll be laying there for at least 15-20 minutes listening to it, anticipating the next wail, expecting I'll have to get up eventually, and then at that point have to make a bottle and rock her back to sleep. That's probably 40 minutes. But if I get up right away I'll save that 20 minutes and be back to sleep that much faster.

The doc doesn't much like that though. She says Grace should have no issues falling back asleep and if we're getting up in the middle of the night to soothe her it's promoting bad habits. I like our pediatrician - she's good with Audrey and Grace and knows what she's doing - but that's easy for her to say. She doesn't have to listen to it and lose sleep over it.

And then I think - will Audrey or Grace be mad in the morning if we've let them cry and carry on before bedtime because they wanted to stay up? Will they remember or even think about it? But the thing about babies and toddlers is they don't know what's good for them. Hell, adults don't know what's good for them. It's a parent's job to say "it's time for bed." And the fact they are protesting is because they are tired. And if you give in things snowball.

If only they had sleep obedience training for babies and toddlers - because falling asleep is a learned behavior, you know. But letting them fall asleep themselves is a learned behavior for parents too I guess. I'm working on it, and if I'm successful the girls inevitably will have forgiven me for letting them cry because they are so focused on the adventures of the day ahead.

The lunge, the waltz and other oddities

Those of us who have kids do the darnedest things to get them to sleep. You know - a certain routine or movement that helps lull them to sleep that you would only do in the privacy of your baby's bedroom and never in full view of anyone else, lest they'd think you were rather odd.

I think you know what I'm talking about but if not it's things like:

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The lunge. With an awake baby in your arms or against your chest, this is where you bend at the knees, letting the baby accelerate briefly toward the floor and then slow, as if to let her experience a slight bit of additional gravity, straighten your legs once again and then repeat.

There are several variations of this - one where you bend more at one knee each time, creating a bit of a side-to-side motion as well. Or you can bend equally at both knees to keep the movement more vertical. You can also bend deeply or keep the movement more shallow - it may depend on the degree to which the baby is awake - but the deeper you go the more likely you are to see her little eyes get droopy.

You know you're doing it right when your quads begin to burn.

The bounce. Also seen in public sometimes, this rather routine movement is accomplished simply by bouncing the baby up and down in your arms with his head against your chest. You can use your arms, legs, feet and other muscles to achieve the desired effect but I think it is best to keep the bounce subtle, otherwise you can get undesirable results, such as stimulating the baby. That's a no-no and as such this movement should be used carefully.

Walking in circles. This is just what it sounds like. With the baby in your arms you walk around his bedroom in circles, hoping the feeling of footsteps will lull him to sleep. This is fairly effective, actually - after all, the baby got used to the sensation of mom's footsteps for nine months before being born, even if he was upside down most of the time. (I don't recommend holding the baby upside down.)

You can even get creative here and walk in a square on even a triangle or figure-8. Or try walking backward as well as it creates a different sensation for the baby. The world is your oyster on this one.

The march. Think of this as a tamer version of what military guys do. Raise one foot from the knee, maybe 6" to 12" off the floor, and then bring that foot down softly and repeat with the opposing foot. Softly is important because, if you live above someone in an apartment building or have bedrooms on the top floor, you're likely to annoy everyone beneath you.

This can be done by marching around the room or in place - either method should achieve a similar result.

The waltz. This might be out there but after many a fortnight drifts by you get kind of bored with the same stuff - like walking in circles for example. And so you try to be creative. With the baby in your arms you begin to dance, alone in the dark, hoping the rhythm will lull her to sleep. And often it does. I like the waltz for three reasons. (i) It can be done easily in a confined space; (ii) It is easy to remember the steps; and (iii) It is the only dance I know.

The high school slow dance can also work but you likely did that so many times in high school that it's not interesting at all. On the other hand, the tango is probably one to stay away from as it may wake the baby and even startle her.

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Those are five off the top of my head. I was inspired to write this post as I was getting Grace to sleep the other night, her body swaddled in her favorite quilted blanket and her body resting in my arms. These tricks don't work so well with Audrey anymore unfortunately - with her it's an entirely different strategy. I welcome comments from anyone who would like to share other creative ideas, or would like to tell me I'm crazy.

Moments

Holy crap.

I've been trying to re-format my blog and it's incredibly trying. I swear I'm doing things right but when I hit the "refresh" button... well... it just doesn't quite work. But I'm getting there.

Do you like the lollipops?

There's a definite tradeoff between coding and writing. I much prefer the latter and will leave the former to all the geeks out there when I'm able.

Anyway I could continue on for days about dealing with five kids in a household when you only have two of your own. (See the prior post here.) It's like going from zero to sixty in three seconds. Like eating a 16 oz. steak when you've been a vegetarian for five years. LIke running a marathon when you've only trained for a 5k. LIke jumping out of an airplane with no parachute. Well, maybe not the last thing. But you get it.

I want to tell you this: that Audrey is sleeping in her own bed and going to bed at 8pm or so for the first time in a long time. There was a bit of a co-dependent relationship going on where she wanted to sleep in our bed and we'd let her sleep in ours because we didn't want to deal with the problems it would cause if we said "no" and ultimately we kind of liked having her sleep there because, after all, she's three and when on earth during the rest of our lives are we going to be able to sleep next to our precious daughter than now? Soon she'll be dissing us in favor of being independent.

But in the end it is good. Routine is good. And I can tell she's happier for having a routine.

Meanwhile Grace has moved on to hemp milk from formula as of two days ago. You're going to say, "hemp milk?" Yes, you heard me. And it has no THC for those wondering. None. Cow milk is ok but kind of gross when you really boil it down (don't really boil it). Hemp milk is full of good things for a kid and you can check it out at Whole Foods and it's much less expensive than formula. Grace is still adjusting but she'll get used to it.

Grace also likes so say, "Noooooooo," in the cutest little voice. I wouldn't normally like her saying "no" but it's so fun to hear her say it that I don't mind. Generally it's when something pisses her off and I'm in favor of her standing up for herself, even if it's against me.

Audrey said to me today: "Dad, your yellow chapstick is like Emily's." "Really?" I said. "Who's Emily?" She reminded me that Emily was our babysitter from more than a year ago. "You remember her chapstick?" I asked. "Yes!" she said. "It was exactly like the one you just bought." 

This detail is one nobody would normally remember. My father, after spending a couple days around Audrey a couple weeks ago, asked me, "Do you think Audrey has a photographic memory?" Apparently he had experienced the same sort of thing. It is certainly possible - I've never met anyone, including any kids, who can remember things like she does. Except maybe my wife.

I'm trying to learn to live in the moment so I can really appreciate all these things. The chaos of watching others' kids. The evolution of a baby who drinks breast milk and then formula and then milk you buy at the store. The verbal and cognitive progressions. The times your child impresses you beyond words. 

Because it is easy to neglect them. And in time these moments will be forgotten.

Stream of consciousness

Do you wake up in the same stream of consciousness as you were in the night before? Sometimes I'm consumed by or focused on something the night before and it occupies my thoughts as I fall asleep, my dreams while I'm sleep and my thinking when I wake up. But generally I'm in a different state of mind when I wake up - calmer, fresher, thinking about what's in store for the day ahead.

Audrey often wakes up thinking and talking about exactly the same stuff that was going on the night before. If, when she's getting tired, she's begging for ice cream but doesn't get any, she may wake up and the first thing out of her mouth is about getting that ice cream fix (she's uses different words). Same goes for any kind of sugary substance that she's been denied the evening before; on awakening it's, "Daddy, can I have [fill in the blank]?" And she's not thinking "later today" - she's thinking right then and there.

At bedtime sometimes she'll ask to fall asleep in our bed. Most of the time that's okay with us but I usually move her to her bed later. When she wakes up the very first thing she'll ask, "Daddy, why did you move me to my bed?" (To which I respond, "Because you sleep better in your bed," or with, "Because it's safer in your bed - it has rails so you don't fall out," and always followed by, "But we missed you and thought about you all night!"

Clearly for toddlers there are things that are so consuming that they are at their mental forefront in their initial waking hours -  as I write this it seems that anything that has to do with intense wants or desires is on tap when Audrey wakes the next day. Perhaps intense fears would fit in there as well but I'd have to think more on that. It's kind of like we push the "Standby" button on a computer and everything gets stored in RAM. And then we push the "On" button and it's like she never missed a beat.

Dr. Seuss's ABCs, reinvented

Audrey likes to read Dr. Seuss's ABC book each night. It's been great because she learns her letters while also being entertained by bizarre creatures like the Zizzer Zazzer Zuzz.

But now there's a twist. She wants me to read the book "funny" - as in, I completely make up the storyline as I go in a way that's both funny to her and tame enough for a 3-year-old's ears. It's not easy.

For some reason I tend to default to bathroom humor, which I view as tolerable but which my wife has declared is only appropriate while using the potty. I might, for example, say that the camel on the ceiling on the page about the letter "C" is about to go pee. Audrey laughs like crazy at that but it could get me in trouble. Or I might suggest that the picture of a foot Kicking a Kettle on the "K" page is instead going to kick the Kitten's booty and send her flying toward the King's face. You get the point.

As the pages wear on it's really tough to come up with funny stuff. I'm like a comedian on a stage who is running out of jokes. By the time the letter "T" arrives I'm fresh out of creativity and am reading straight from the page. She notices less by then but still notices.

The Zizzer Zazzer Zuzz is, of course, on the "Z" page and it provides some relief. The creature is so strange looking that it's easy to poke fun at. And then, freshly inspired, Audrey wants to move on to the next book and asks me to read it "funny" again.

7pm

It's just another time of day on the one hand but there's something special about 7pm on the other. It is a lot different than 8pm, generally speaking. 7pm can mean the next day is more full of bliss and good behavior while 8pm might mean crankiness and fits. 7pm helps to clear the evening so us parents can relax while 8pm can leave precious little time for other activities.

Not sure what it is about 7pm but it just seems to work.

I'm talking about Audrey's bedtime, of course. We had been on the 8pm bandwagon for a long time when 7pm came along a couple weeks back. And when it did things changed. Unexpected and almost miraculous things began to happen. Cheerier mornings, a willingness to eat meals when asked and a general upbeatness filled our household. Many of the challenges of life as a toddler remained but Audrey was a changed person.

Why 7pm works and 8pm doesn't isn't easy to determine, but for the most part Audrey wakes up around 7:30am regardless of when she goes to bed which means an extra hour of sleep is possible. And she has more or less done away with her afternoon nap which means she is more tired by that time of the day. 

There is more willingness to go down at 7pm as well. This means that if you start at 7pm it might take 20-30 minutes to change clothes, brush teeth and read a book or two. But at 8pm that same process might take an hour because she might put up a fight. And on top of that the excuses are more likely to come at you, rapid-fire: "I'm still hungry!" "I need to go pee!" "I want to go downstairs!" "Turn on more lights in the hall!" "I want more milk!" And the more you cater to each of these the longer the process runs. 

7pm helps mitigate these issues.

And it's not just we who like 7pm - Audrey clearly does too. She's in a better mood in general which means she must feel better. She doesn't have to have her day interrupted by a nap and instead can enjoy Beethoven or Barney during quiet time in the afternoon. And she gets the benefit of a more consistent routine.

7pm is the new 8pm. I just need to find a way to tell Grace. 

Pillows and the metaphor

Lately Audrey has resisted going to sleep without Mommy or Daddy laying next to her, making the nightly ritual painstakingly long. What starts as an 8pm walk up the stairs to change into pajamas, brush teeth and read books (3 books, to be exact) turns into a rendezvous of much lengthier proportions. Any attempt to leave the room before she is sound asleep morphs into us staying and often falling sound asleep along side her well into the night. (Her pleading tends to win me over in spades.)

Tonight we were determined. I (courageously?) left her crying in her bed, telling her she was safe and that she could call if she needed us and that I'd come up to check on her in awhile. After the crying didn't subside my wife went in for Round 2, applauding Audrey for being big enough and mature enough to fall asleep on her own. She eventually succeeded by turning on all the lights upstairs so that Audrey wouldn't be in the dark. In other words, our neighbors next door and probably 3 doors down were kept up by brightness because of Audrey's desire to keep the midnight oil burning so that she could fall asleep. Go figure.

Audrey was relatively quiet for 3 hours but we could hear her mumbling to herself. Time  passed: 9pm, 10pm, 11pm... 11:30pm? Audrey was still entertaining herself. Finally my wife decided she'd better check in.

I had told Audrey when I left her 3 hours earlier that she could pretend the big pillow was Daddy so she wouldn't be alone. She didn't buy it then but apparently bought in later. Audrey had arranged 3 pillows around her, my wife later explained. One was me, another was my wife, and a small pillow big enough for a doll was Grace. Audrey had created her first metaphor: Daddy was pillow #1, Mommy was pillow #2 and Grace was pillow #3. 

Despite that, she wasn't asleep. So one of us laid down with her.

Big girl bed

Audrey has recently started sleeping in her "big girl bed," which means she has completed the evolution from crib to toddler day bed to full size bed. Fortunately the crib we bought is a bit like a transformer in that it converts to all three, with the latter requiring a conversion kit and a mattress. She's loving her new status and has been sleeping in the big bed quite well, but along with a real bed come new hazards, like falling out. As a result, parents buy side rails and stick pillows and other items along the sides to minimize the odds of this happening.

Last night Audrey beat the odds, deciding to test her levitation skills and instead falling out of bed. Poor thing. Despite a rail and other blockades she still managed to do it as she tends to roll around quite a bit. Either that or she climbed down and was sleep walking and ran into the wall or something. She was obviously quite startled when it happened and I had to spend some time consoling her around 2am.

She's fine but this morning I noticed bit of a lump on her forehead. Fortunately the doctors say that's the best place to hit your head if you're going to hit it. You've got lots of protection there. Nonetheless we're going to have to revisit the nature of the barriers we've set up. We can't go back to a crib - she could climb out of that and really hurt herself - and short of installing an orange safety net and flashing hazard lights we may have to rail off the whole perimeter. Either that or we could pretend she's camping and try a sleeping bag on the floor.

I want to eat

Four nights ago I was rocking Audrey to bed. I hadn't had dinner and suggested that I needed to put her in her toddler bed (her modified crib that now has a guard rail) so I could go downstairs to eat. What's happened since then? Here's the play-by-play: we read two books, she lays down in her bed, about an hour goes by, we hear some mumbling on the video monitor (I recommend getting one) about needing mommy and daddy, we ignore it and hope she'll fall asleep, and we suddenly hear the thumping of a flat-footed (think Barney Rubble) two-year-old running down the hall upstairs telling us she needs us immediately. I walk up the stairs, and she tells me she needs something to eat. "At 10pm?" I ask. "Daddy, I need something to eat." Tonight we had a 30-minute face-to-face about this and after lots of maneuvering I convinced her to go back to sleep. The moral? Be careful what you say to a two-year-old, no matter how innocuous it seems.

Bedtime

Sometimes, at bedtime, Audrey just isn't quite ready for bed and will come up with lots of excuses, which means daddy has to be creative in coaxing her to go to sleep. Unfortunately, sometimes his efforts backfire.

"I'm going to leave the door open and the hall light on, just like you like it, okay?" as I lay Audrey down in bed.

Audrey: "Stay, daddy."

Daddy: "You'll be fine."

Audrey: "Rock me in the chair."

Daddy: "We just did that for awhile. It's time to go to sleep."

Audrey: "Let's walk around."

Daddy: "Audrey, it's bedtime, we'll walk around tomorrow."

Audrey: "But I need you to staaay."

Daddy: "No, you want me to stay. Tell you what - I'm going to go downstairs, and if you need anything, anything at all, you just call me and I'll come back up. Okay?"

Audrey: "Okay."

Daddy: "Okay, good night. I'll see you tomorrow morning."

Daddy walks downstairs and sits on the couch, proud of his creative parenting. Ten minutes go by.

From upstairs, Audrey says loudly: "Daddy... Daddy! I need anything!"

Back to the drawing board.

Reading books

Audrey: "Daddy, can we read two books tonight?"

Daddy: "Sure. How about the these two books about bunnies?"

Audrey: (Pauses, thinking) "Daddy... I can't believe there are two books about bunnies!"

Daddy: "Yes, amazing isn't it?"

Audrey: "Daddy, can we read this one backwards?"

Go figure.