So on QB's birthday the other day, his grandmother -- who, for the record, I love dearly -- waited to call him until 8:30 at night. Odd choice, I thought. But no skin off my nose. I was already knee-deep in Mopsy's bedtime routine. (Normally, she's in bed at 7:30, but with cake and presents, we were running later than usual.)
Here's the story on her troubled sleep history. We went through a year-long period after we moved to connecticut when we couldn't get her to bed until 11 and then she'd wake repeatedly in the middle of the night. I've finally gotten her back on schedule. But the bottom line now: Don't Mess With Mopsy's Bedtime. (Or be prepared to face the wrath.)
But did my dear MIL insist on talking to Mopsy despite the fact that she was nearly asleep, T minus 1 to lights out? Yes, she did! And did Jarv, who knows better, finally acquiesce? Yes, he did! So Jarv marches into Mopsy's room, phone in hand. Ignoring the evil looks I'm shooting him, he hands the phone over. Grr. Grandma does her thing, "How's my grandma girl?" she coos. Then she asks Mopsy (who's no longer anywhere near sleepy), "Did you open your present from me today?"
Uh, no she did not. The gift Grandma's referring to would be a red-white-and-blue sundress, which she specifically told me to hold onto until Mopsy's birthday in, yes, JULY. Did Grandma really need to bring up this provocative subject more than two months early, in the middle of bedtime?
Big surprise: Mopsy didn't get to sleep anytime soon.
If I were in a cartoon strip, the thought bubble above my head would have read,
"*^#@"$F*!%*?T@!!! "
No comments:
Post a Comment