"Are you happy at me?"

We've pretty much reached our limit with Jack getting out of bed. Almost always, we have upwards of half an hour of him getting out of bed between when we finish reading stories and close the door and he finally sleeps. You might think we would just put him to bed later, but it's pretty much that same half hour or so regardless. I put him to bed later, and he's up half an hour later.

Then there are the mornings, and the odd thing is that if he goes to bed later, he seems to wake up earlier. So at 5:15, or 5:30, or (this morning!) even earlier, there's Jack. Sometimes Kate probably wakes him up, sometimes it's those dang early birds outside our windows, whatever. And he loves getting into bed with us, which might be OK if he actually SLEPT, but he doesn't. So, I put him back in his bed. And of course he can't tell time, so he doesn't know when it's OK to come in, and if he doesn't go back to sleep, for whatever reason, there he is again 10 or 15 minutes later. Standing there hopefully at the side of the bed, ready to light up and jump into bed (being sure to put his knee(s) into my ribs or groin on the way over me to the middle of us), or let his face crumple as I get up to indicate he needs to return to his own room. This continues for a while, with the result that none of us (or at least, neither I nor Jack) get any sleep the last hour of the morning, and we all feel the effects later on.

So last night, the first time he came out, Emily said that if he came out again, he couldn't get into bed with us the next morning. He came out again (something about such and such hurting or needing another stuffed friend or whatever) and I said, well, I guess you don't want to get into bed with us tomorrow morning. He reacted with dismay, and I said, well, Mommy told you that if you got out of bed.... He wailed and so forth, and I left the room. And he got out of bed again 5 minutes later, some story about some other nonsense. And I put him back in his bed and said, Jack, one more time and you're not going to be able to get into bed with us the next morning, either. And if you keep getting out of bed, we're going to keep taking things away.

This was a mistake, since I meant it in a figurative sense (taking away privileges), and he took it (naturally, since he's 3, and was tired besides, and I was pretty cranky at this point) literally. "Don't take my things away!!!!!!" he wailed and cried. And since I couldn't correctly explain, I just pressed on. "Well, don't get out of bed anymore. When Mommy and Daddy put you into bed and close the door, it's bedtime, and you need to stay. in. your. bed." More wailing. Pretty sure he cried himself to sleep. Which is always really awesome for a parent, I think.

He woke up around midnight, wailing or crying about somesuch. Not really sure. Maybe his pillow was wet, or he remembered I'd said I was going to take things away, or he remembered he couldn't get into bed with us, or wanted to get out of bed but knew he'd get in more trouble. I don't know. After 5-10 minutes, which Kate remarkably slept through, Emily went in, and I guess she was kind of angry and spoke sharply to him, because he continued crying, and she came back feeling all guilty. Jack continued crying, but it was muffled. Pretty rough, really. Like I said, though, we'd had it.

This morning Jack came in around 6:15, which is a fine time to wake up (particularly comparatively). Emily was already in feeding Kate. He stood by the side of the bed looking at me uncertainly. Knew he wasn't supposed to get in. I got up, and he turned and headed back to his room. I went in after him, then asked, Jack, it's morning. Do you want to sleep more or do you want to get up? "I want to get up." So he did.

We went into the bathroom for his morning potty. He sat there doing his thing while I sat on the step stool next to the sink, as is tradition, with me rubbing my eyes and shaking the cobwebs out.

After about a minute or two of silence (I didn't know what to say - "How'd you sleep?" I knew the answer was not well.), Jack said, mournfully,

"Are you happy at me?"

I sat there for a moment, absorbing it, not sure how to respond (and of course touched by his little misspoken phrase, too). "Jack....I'm not NOT happy at you, but, I'm tired. You got out of bed a lot last night. It needs to stop."

Jack (as if he hadn't heard): "Why can't I get into bed with you and Mommy?"

"Mommy told you last night: if you get out of bed after we put you to bed, we're not going to let you into bed with us in the morning. Maybe tonight you'll stay in your bed after we say good night."

Jack, in agreement: "Yes."

So, we'll see.