After bath and the ensuing pajama struggle (“Not the superman, the EINSTEINS”), we have to trot downstairs to get his milk. Which he has to get out of the cupboard himself. I pour it into a sippy cup (yet to break him of this habit at night!), add 1 tablespoon of oh-so-yummy fish oil, shake it up, and then hand it over to him. In the meantime, he has run back and forth between the garbage and recycling bins, trying to decide which one to put the empty milk bottle in (“This is recycling…no, THIS is recycling”). Then we let the dogs out and back in for the night, turn off the lights, run upstairs (well, I run, he takes his own sweet time), and then into my bathroom so that I can take my lenses out (“What are those, mom? You tell me, Nik. Contacts!”). Then over to his room, where he gets into bed, I turn off the light, climb in with him, he drinks his milk, hands me the empty cup (“All done, mom?”), I place it on the top of his headboard, we say “I love you, Nikky (“I love you, mommy”) Goodnight, sleep tight, don’t let the bed bugs bite, sweet dreams” to each other, he talks over his day to himself, tosses and turns, climbs over me to get from one side to another, then back again, sits up, looks out the window (“Its a dog, mama! Yes, a dog is barking, now go to sleep!”), lies back down, repeat, and then finally, after threats of my leaving the room, he finally falls asleep. I wait a few minutes, and if I don’t fall asleep myself, I crawl out of his bed, and go off to do whatever.
After bath, its pajamas, “Go give Nikky a goodnight kiss,” which she does right away, then back to her room, hands me her blankies and assorted animals to toss into the crib, lifts her arms up for me to get her into the crib, lies down, sucks her thumb, I put a couple of the blankies over her, turn on her music box, flip up the carpet at the door, turn off the light, say goodnight, and close the door.