Cobi is five years old. Like most kids his age, he doesn’t understand the reasoning behind going to sleep when he still has energy left and there are still hours in the day. One night I was unusually tired and eager to get some sleep, but Cobi was wide awake and resisting sleep with all his power.
He used every excuse he could think of to stay up. He needed a drink, then he needed to go to the bathroom, then he needed a particular stuffed animal that he’d left downstairs. After finally getting him tucked in, I went to brush my teeth. Over the sound of the water running, I heard him call, “Gra-a-a-a-a-a-ma.” “What’s wrong?” I called back. “I’m too hot. Can I change into different pajamas?” “All right,” I agreed. We found some light weight summer PJs with a big “S” on the chest. Of course, that meant he had to fly around the room a few times before leaping back into bed in a single bound. I kissed him goodnight for the second time and turned off the light. While putting my night gown on in the other room, I heard, “Gra-a-a-a-a-a-ma.” I went to see what the problem was. “My back is itchy, can you scratch it?” I scratched it. Then I tucked him in again and left the room.
Before I got to the end of the hall, I heard, “Gra-a-a-a-a-a-ma.” This time, we had to check the closet for monsters. After finding the coast clear, I pretended to lock the closet door and throw away the key. “Even if there were monsters in there, “ I said, “they couldn’t get out now.” A minute or two after I left his room, again came the familiar call, “Gra-a-a-a-a-a-ma.” He was still too hot, so we opened a window and threw back one blanket. “How’s that?” I asked with a yawn. “That’s good,” he said, “but I’m hungry.” Even though he’d had a snack before the bedtime ritual began, how could I send a starving child to bed? I’m a grandma, so what could I say? After a banana and a slice of cheese, I tucked him in AGAIN. He was quiet for a good three minutes, but then he needed to get up and blow his nose. And then he needed his pillow fluffed up. And then he remembered that he hadn’t hugged grandpa goodnight, so downstairs we went to do that. As I was tucking him in that time, he announced that he was thirsty from the salty cheese. “Now Cobi,” I said, fighting to keep my eyes open, “You can have one more drink and that’s it. I’m very sleepy. I can’t stay awake any longer. I need to go to sleep and so do you. If you call grandma any more, I’m going to be upset.” He sighed, curled up beneath the blanket, and said, “Okay, grandma.”
Exhausted and ready for a good night’s sleep, I fell into my bed. Then I heard a timid little voice from down the hall calling “Mar-r-r-r-r-r-r-sha.” Marsha Jordan
Author of "Hugs, Hope, and Peanut Butter"
hugsandhope@gmail.com
www.hugsandhope.org
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