Stalling

Both of my children stall now when bedtime rolls around. Stalling, the art of delaying bedtime by whatever means necessary, is a natural kid enterprise. They all learn the art sooner or later.

Zach is a full-blown black belt, Sith Lord of stalling. He stalls more than a 1956 Buick with a bad carburetor. Even long before bedtime, he is engaged in the game of trying to become involved in lengthy activities that will cause him to miss his target of 8 PM. When that technique is eventually exhausted (netting him at least 10 minutes of extra time in the process), he is suddenly struck with an overwhelming hunger that will surely kill him unless he gets a snack post-haste. He then proceeds to eat the snack with astonishing slowness, rivaling a ground sloth with arthritis. After that, he's still hungry of course.

We go through a few rounds of this and then the battle for tooth brushing begins. This usually transitions at length into story time, which consists of stories read both to and by Zach. These can be lengthy, as he needs to inspect each picture with the thoroughness of a CSI investigator. After reading comes eventual surrender, but not without some "lay with me" pleading. That is dangerous, because if I do, I'm out like a light only to awaken hours later freezing and with a ferocious neck ache.

Well, Maddie has now begun her studies in the vast field of stalling. I only wonder what forms her stalls will take. She knows how to pull the strings already, of course. But right now she's only a green belt, though admittedly fast working her way up. She is beginning to refuse offers of bedtime, and is harder to put down lately. And the other night, as Heather was rocking her in her room, she called out to me:

"Daddy!!!! Help Me!!!"

Her carburetor is starting to act up, and I can see it's going to be a bumpy ride.