Brows Don't Get Much Lower Than This

I’m trying to create a new bedtime routine for the boys. This change is necessitated by their move into a shared bedroom with Abbie. Previously I’d feed the boys in the living room with the lights turned down low, wind them all the way down while filling their bellies until it’s almost bedtime and their eyes are just about too heavy to lift. Then I’d yell at the dog for careening through the living room to frighten away those malevolent backyard birds, and finally calm the boys back down to sleep. With the boys down, I’d take Abbie through her bedtime routine of books and songs in her bedroom.

All that reading light and singing racket keeps the boys awake, though. Do you remember back in college when bedtime would roll around 2am and you just want to sleep, but your roommate insists on winding down first by reading some worthless fluff magazine like Entertainment Weekly while listening to Morrissey or something else that sucks, and the end result is everyone screaming at each other until the RA has to intervene and no one falls asleep before the sun comes up? Same principle applies, except substitute “Olivia” for “worthless fluff magazine like Entertainment Weekly,” “My Little Buttercup” for “Morrissey,” and “I” for “the RA.”

I’m basically incorporating the boys into Abbie’s routine. I set them on the floor with Abbie while I read. The eventual goal is to read in the general direction of all three children so they may all share in the read experience before thanking me for being the World’s Greatest Dad and drifting quietly to sleep. They may reach that stage sometime before I have to start establishing curfews, but for now Abbie reads her own book and the boys roll around in search of something to chew while I read aloud. After reading, Abbie kisses her brother goodnight, I set them in their cribs, and I sing to everyone. The goodnight song changes slightly from “My Little Buttercup” to “My Little Buttercups,” which works pretty well changing nouns from singular to plural along with their corresponding verb, although “a cottage built for four” doesn’t have the same ring as “a cottage built for two.” Then I shut the door and hope no one complains.

This change allows the pre-bedtime feeding to become livelier. Instead of sitting in calming darkness, we might turn on the television while feeding to see the Cubs lose, or watch American Idol name Crazy Dancing White Haired Guy the winner. Instead of soothing speech directed at the boys, Ellie and I might hold meaningful conversations about how each other’s days went.*

Ian celebrated this new slack in the feeding by letting loose last night in the only way he knows how: Pooping. He pooped, a lot. He tooted, loudly. I’m still sleep-deprived enough to find this hilarious on several levels, not the least of which is because Ellie was holding him at the time. Then Tory pooped, a lot. Not to be outdone, Ian pooped some more. Tory answered with another toot. Picture the campfire scene from Blazing Saddles, except the boys were less self-aware. This went back and forth for several minutes, each adding one final sound while the supposed adults in the room collapsed laughing. Abbie waited patiently in her room reading. She may have also been learning math by counting the days until we move and she gets her own room again.

* Fine.