The short people began the day by Destroying Their Bedroom. It was a complete and utter disaster sundae topped with pencil and/or marker drawings. On the walls. On the bed. On the effing piggy bank.
So we canceled the electric entertainment for the day. Take that! Yo no tengo que escuchar Dora! Gano a mono-amante bilingüe loco! For those of you who aren't pretending to be bilingual, I will translate: I do not have to listen to Dora. I win, you crazy, bilingual monkey-lover.
I really do not hate Dora, it's just that, well, I guess I might hate her just thismuch. The patronizing voice, the bad hair, the cavorting with purple primates...it's just a lot for my brain to handle. There are just so many better choices, yet the child always comes back to Dora.
As Little Pea would say: Yuck. Blech. Plch.
And now, as I sit ruminating on my blechy feelings about not-real Dora, my real babes are running a major bedtime coup attempt in their room. I can't figure out how they can possibly remain awake at this hour of the day. As it is, I'm barely able to keep my eyes open, and I have to stop to think about spelling everything. And I am a Super Speller, I tell you! I won a statewide spelling bee in the first grade. (The clincher: I could spell toasted, and the other girl left out the e. Ha. Novice!) I also won the county spelling bee in eighth grade, but instead of going to the state spelling super bowl, I went on the band trip to DisneyWorld or Land...the one in Florida. Way funner, way less studying.
How do you get a 2 and 4 (almost 5) year old to go to bed when they would much rather play with each other than sleep, that is what I would like to know. We have been working the 1-2-3 Magic plan, which is fabulous for so many reasons. I need to review the bedtime section again. I don't actually think he addresses Post-Lights-Out Behaviors When the Door Is Securely Locked.
The thing is that I don't think they are really enjoying themselves with that game of Staying Up Making Lots Of Noise When Normal Children Should Be Asleep. But they don't actually stop on their own, they go and go until they pass out. This is evidenced by the objects they are holding while they sleep bent over at the waist indicating they had been seated with legs extended in front of them only a moment ago. I don't unfold them, I don't cover them up, I don't take the toys out of the bed. Yes, Olivia has woken up with horse hoof-prints on her face before, but apparantly they haven't been Noticeable Enough to dispense with the bedtime horse shows.
I don't even talk to them while the cavorting is happening. That's not accurate, I did talk to them tonight, I just did it in the 1-2-3 Magic style of counting and removing privileges.
There is no room service. And no TV again tomorrow.
Because, really, I can't take away breakfast.