Putting Jack to Bed

Putting Jack to bed is interesting these days, because things kind of follow a routine, albeit a protracted one.

We go up the stairs, and I start the bath while Jack runs around the upstairs rooms. Sometimes he plays with toys in his room, or reads the big Snoopy book in the office, or turns on his music. Usually it's 5 minutes of me running the bath while Jack burns off energy.

Then comes tracking him down to get him into the bath, which occasionally is laborious. "I'm just going to play a little." "I'm just putting these guys away." "I need to put these books back."

Finally, I get him in the tub. For all his delaying and protests before the bath, once in he has little or no desire to get out. "I want ALL the toys." "I need to wash my seagull." "He wants to drive the boat." I give him his shampoo, and he wants a clean washcloth to dry his eyes. I scrub him, and he asks what I'm doing, resists, etc. I explain, Jack, this is what baths are FOR.

I hoist him out and he stands on the rug. If I'm not careful, he'll dash out into the hallway, naked as a jaybird. (Old expression, I really have no idea what a jaybird is. Blue Jay?) Sometimes I pick him up wrapped in the towel. "Hold me like a baby," he says, big smile. He's huge now, but I do it anyway, his gangly legs and arms everywhere, us trying to squeeze through the door. He laughs, water drips from his hair and feet onto the floor.

I bring him into his room and put on his diaper. Then come pajamas, but there's often an interlude where he runs around in just his diaper. Then pajamas, which sometimes he puts on. Some of those times he even puts them on forward rather than backward. He runs around again. I comb his hair, frequently while he's playing with some toy.

Brushing teeth. He does this grudgingly. But, he does it.

Then it's finally story time. We sit on his bed reading 2 or 3 books he's picked out. Recent favorites are "The Very Busy Spider," which I also like, and "I'm a Big Brother Now." We read both of these twice, sometimes.

Then I tell him it's time for songs. Jack gets up and gets water. "I need a sip of water." I don't know if he actually needs a sip of water. It's like a Pavlovian dog thing. I say it's time for songs, he needs water.

We lie down together and sing songs. Swing on a Star, Edelweiss, Working on the Railroad, The Tigger Song. Others, sometimes, but that's most of my repertoire right there. For a while I did "On top of spaghetti," but he's not into that right now.

Then it's time to lie down to sleep. Jack: "Sleep with me a couple minutes." I do. We lie down together, and sometimes he touches my cheek, my upper lip. "Do you have stubble?" he asks. Usually, the answer is yes.

Tonight, Jack looked at me and said seriously, "I'm going to get a sip of water. And then I'll come back." And he did.