Blowing & Drifting

Vivi is stuck in another rut of bad bedtimes. They started last week, mostly – we thought – because she’d been napping in the afternoons, and thus wasn’t tired enough for bed at 6:30 or 7:00. But on Thursday, she had an unholy shit fit at bedtime after skipping her nap, proving (again) these equations:

• afternoon nap = not tired enough at bedtime to fall asleep
• no afternoon nap = too tired at bedtime to fall asleep

The bedtime troubles continued on Friday night and then tonight, even though we mentioned yesterday that Santa Claus is watching verrrrrry carefully right now, and that he is in fact making a list that can be checking twice to find out who’s naughty or nice. Not only did Vivi accept this time-honored gambit (which I continue to feel bad about using), but she talked about “Santa Cwaus” all day today and about how she’d go to sleep “wif no scweaming owh cwying” tonight.

Alas, her plans were overwhelmed by whatever it is that makes her fight the simple act of going to sleep every night. Tonight, I brought the screamfest to an end after 10 minutes, rather than 45, by simply slamming the door and walking out on her. I did go back a few minutes later when she started pleading, “Daddy, I’w stop cwying if you wiw put my bwankets back on!” True to her word, she did go to sleep then – snuffling like a rhinitic elephant.

Conclusion: Santa’s not bringing me any presents, either.