Last night (Friday) no one wanted to go to bed. I tried twice to get the baby down, just to have her gurgle and giggle at me. Husband was having the same trouble with our 3 y/o (only with chatter instead of gurgles, as she has a firm grasp of spoken language). We tried joining forces, each lying on one edge of our king-sized bed, and put the girls in the center, hoping that bouncing and crawling around would tire them out. Things were looking bleak.
At some time after 9 pm, desperation set in. Husband offered up a bribe: “Anyone who goes to sleep RIGHT NOW will get ice cream for breakfast!”
Instantly, the 3 y/o calmed down and said she was ready to go to sleep. I carried her to her bed and tucked her in. Silence fell minutes later. Similarly, the baby started exhibiting her typical “I’m tired” behaviors and she settled down to go to sleep as well. Success!
Fast-forward to this morning. I get woken up not by a crying baby (my standard wake-up call) but by my little S, standing beside my bed saying, “Mommy, its wake-up time!” I ask for five more minutes, to which she agrees. Feeling smug that since she can’t tell time, she doesn’t know how long five minutes is and I can maybe sneak in another 15, I snuggle back into my cozy bed. Seconds later, I hear S in the baby’s room, WAKING HER UP! Doesn’t she know you NEVER wake up a sleeping baby? Never, ever, ever, ever, unless you absolutely HAVE to? What is she DOING?!!!
When I finally get out of bed and get the baby (who was quite happy to play in her crib for a while since Sissy was playing in her room) I ask S what she would like for breakfast.
“How about waffles?”
“No. I don’t like waffles.”
“What do you want, then?”
“How about some strawberries on top?” as I try to salvage this nutritional waste of a breakfast.
“Strawberries AND sprinkles!”
Sigh. I know when I’ve lost. I tell her I have to take care of the baby before we can go downstairs, and she asks if she can go down right now. Not to play, but to wait at the table for her ice cream. Sure, whatever.
She then sits at the table and starts chanting, “I want ice cream! I want ice cream! Ice cream! Ice cream! I want ice cream!” over and over and over and over again, until Husband goes downstairs to “make” her breakfast.
So, we all had ice cream for breakfast. I made waffles to go with mine, and topped it with strawberries. S had hers with pink cookie sugar on top, and a side of strawberries. V had one spoonful, made a face like we were giving her pickled beets, and signed for more strawberries. Husband finished V’s ice cream and then had his normal breakfast.
Later (after several cups of coffee, when I have finally woken up), it occurs to me that S woke us all up for her ice cream breakfast. I ask her, and she confirms.