Let me tell you something about my little girl. She needs for her world to be run a certain way. If by chance things are not done by her very meticulous standards. She gets so mad. Not mad, Furious. Not so much furious as, well, have you ever seen a lion in a cage right before feeding time? And he looks like he could tear you apart if you set foot in there. Yeah, like that. And she unleashes this fury on who ever happens to be closest. Usually me. I will share with you her bedtime routine. First we go upstairs and brush teeth. This usually goes off without a hitch. Then we go to her room. We put on socks. It doesn't matter that it's 98 degrees in her room. She wants socks. Then we say good night to her giant stuffed gorilla. Oh don't miss this step. You will be sorry. We pull her shade. And turn on her noise maker. Just loud enough but not too loud. Don't get it TOO LOUD. Now the fun begins. We approach the bed. Have hugs. Kisses. Hugs again. Then kisses. I put her in and hand her her stuffed duck and only her stuffed duck. Seriously, don't try to pass off anything else. Just don't. Then we put on the quilt and then the afghan blanket. And don't try any other blankets either. Only the two made by her Great Grandmother will do. I know it's summer and no one else in the house is sleeping under anything. She must have both blankets. We say goodnight and give one more hug. Then I walk away. If I have done everything as I am supposed to she doesn't cry. But I always mess something up. I didn't get her socks pulled up all the way. I haven't set her giraffe up with her bear just right. Or maybe it's that I got the wrong side of her blanket facing up. Or maybe I left a tiny ray of light shining from beneath her shade. Oh lordy. Don't do leave a tiny ray of light beneath her shade. And here is the best part of all. Anna doesn't talk much yet. So while she is sobbing, yes soooooobbing, from her bed I stand in the middle of the room and try to figure out what in the world I did wrong. Did I ensure Gorilla is still sitting on the dresser the way he is supposed to? Make sure the none of Mark's toys are lying in the middle of the floor? Spin around three times and balk like a chicken? Yes, yes and I bet you wish I'd tell you.
I tell you that story not so much for you but so that, if I die, her Dad will be able to get her to sleep*. So here is what I need you to do. If I do die, call him. Have mercy on him. Tell him this is here. I want the poor man to be able to get some sleep too.
*And lest you think I do it all alone, Jason is usually putting Mark to bed while I put Anna to bed.
And before you even think it. I know I am wrapped around her grubby little fingers. I can't help it. She's just so cute.