Wherein We Employ Trickery, and It Is Good

So, as I've mentioned, David is an evil genius, and I am just evil. This is one of those developmental posts wherein the child reaches and pole-vaults over a milestone, and then Mommy archives it for posterity on the blog. But somehow, once again, it's just another situation where we have to figure out how to outsmart her.

About a month ago, I was out in the evening and when I returned home, David had taken the side off Jarrah's crib. It's one of those convertible cribs that turns into a "toddler bed." I'm putting "toddler bed" in quotations because I think it's one of those marketing things like "toddler food" that doesn't really exist. It's just the crib with a side taken off, to minimize climbing and bone-breaking. We figured we'd give Jarrah a little time to get used to the plein air sleep system before springing for the IKEA trundle. (Some of you may already be tsk-tsking over the fact that we waited so long. Our parenting theory is: Bite me. She liked it in there.

She adjusted to her freedom quickly, after the first night when she appeared in the living room and inquired balefully, "What are you doing? I thought it was bed time." I guess she always assumed we were speaking collectively about that event. Then she asked to have the side put back on, but I thought fast and offered to re-install her bumper instead. Yes, I understand that the bumper wasn't actually going to keep her in bed, but my spider sense was that it was all psychological, and indeed, she stayed in bed after that. Just a few nights later, the bumper was unceremoniously removed.

I guess I always imagined that the only hurdle we'd face would be exactly that--keeping her in bed at bedtime. It never occurred to me that we had opened the Pandora's Box of a whole 'nuther problem, which was keeping her in bed at wake-up time.

Or rather, her perception of wake-up time. While we had spent two and a half years high-fiving each other that our child slumbered until nearly 8:00 a.m. most days, suddenly the old rules no longer applied. Each day, she arose earlier, until the norm was more like 6:30. You might be thinking, "Hmmm, that doesn't sound so unusual. My child wakes up at 6:30 every day." May I extend my deepest sympathies? David and I are not morning people, to put it mildly. In our carefree couple days, our perfect arrangement was to drift off between midnight and 1:00, and arise refreshed at 9:00. His work schedule encouraged this schedule, and mine (when I have one) always did, too. We were clearly meant for each other.

Now we had a problem. Brave and Lionheart-like, David was usually the one to haul his sleepy self out of our pillowy nest and start the morning ritual of Dora and cereal. But it was still screwing with my circadian rhythms, and David developed a tendency to nod off any time he sat down.

For a while, we tried meeting her needs (TV, change of clothes, snacks in Tupperware) and then returning to bed, and while she was flexible about this, the arising party usually found it impossible to fall back asleep. Also, we were both needled by guilt that she could get into countless versions of mischief, even though we did leave a delectable assortment of candy-flavored tranquilizers on the coffee table. And do you think it's bad that we told her she could cook her own pancakes?

Then, one morning I hit my limit. My eyes were assailed by a blaze of light at 6:15, and I could hear furniture was being dragged across the wood floor. I jumped out of bed and roared at the culprit: "OH NOOOOOO! DON'T EVEN THINK ABOUT IT! IT IS STILL NIGHTTIME! NOW GET BACK INTO BED THIS MINUTE!"

She could tell I meant business, and, shoulders slumped, she scurried back to bed. For an hour, we didn't hear a peep, and David slept on, but I lay there, eyes open and heart pounding, juggling my guilt and fury. And while I lay there, I hatched a plan.

When we got up, I convened a family meeting in Jarrah's room. I pointed to her digital clock and said slowly, "Do you see that first number? Tomorrow, do not leave your room until you see that number become a seven." She nodded, and said she understood, but let's face it--the kid can't tell time, and isn't even that firm on what a seven looks like.

Luckily, I'm married to the smartest man ever, and he had a better idea. "What if I got one of those timers, you know the ones people use to make lights turn on when they're on vacation?"

I stared at him. "How will that help?"

"I'll attach it to her night light." A glimmer of understanding penetrated the murk between my ears. "And we'll just tell her she can't open her door until it turns off."

As they say on Scooby-Doo, "It was just crazy enough to work." Readers? I hope I'm not jinxing it, but IT WORKED A TREAT. There is nothing ambiguous about the night light being on and then turning off. If she wakes up early, she plays or reads in bed, and then when the little light goes "snick!" she comes out of her room and into ours, reporting proudly, "I waited until the light turned off!" We've been setting the timer for 7:00, but David even sneaked it up to 7:30 on Saturday and it worked just as well.

I'm just marveling that this idea, crafty though it may be, is actually effective. I shake my head and marvel at my husband's creativity. And then I roll over with a big smile on my face, and snooze for another hour.